


CONventional Psychopathy Part 1: Primary Deviance

by Mayalaen



Series: CONventional Psychopathy 'Verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Beating, Begging, Bodily Fluids, Bodily Functions, Bondage, Broken Bones, Captivity, Crying, Disturbing Themes, F/M, Force-Feeding, Graphic Description, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Humiliation, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kidnapping, M/M, Manhandling, Medical Procedures, Medical Torture, Minor Character Death, Murder, Murder Husbands, Mutilation, Non-Consensual Bondage, Oral Sex, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, Rough Sex, Serial Killer Castiel, Serial Killer Mary, Serial Killers, Stitches, Torture, Urination, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-09-25 04:38:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 75,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9802931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mayalaen/pseuds/Mayalaen
Summary: Castiel Novak is a Cleaner.  One of the agency's best.  He and his Handler, Dean Winchester, have a high success rate in a world where the worst criminals aren't imprisoned for their crimes, but instead are captured by licensed serial killers who dispose of them, doing what they do best while getting paid for it.Cas doesn't form attachments, doesn't leave himself open for a risk like that, but Dean wormed his way into Cas' life and into his house. Does Dean realize what falling in love with a serial killer really means?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've messed with ages in this fic because I wanted technology available now, but some of the characters needed to be younger.
> 
> This is a ‘verse I’ve had expanding in my head since I was around 10 years old. About two years ago I started writing it out using Supernatural characters, and it worked out so well that I ended up writing 75k in a very short amount of time. The ‘verse is still expanding, and I’m currently at 150k with plans for more. I plan to update every _Tuesday and Friday_.
> 
> This ‘verse is dark and includes concepts that are very far from our social norms. Right now there are three separate parts of this ‘verse, and each part will have its own tags as there is a different subject addressed in each part. This ‘verse is meant to fuck with your head. It's also very self-indulgent.
> 
> Thanks go out to my beta Kim for help picking out things that were slowing me down (she's awesome at that) and cheerleading and discussing the 'verse with me. I want to thank outoftheashes/samanddeaninpanties, who was and continues to be an awesome cheerleader. Also royalrowena helped me with more great songs for the playlist and also encouraged me to write a serial killer AU.
> 
>  
> 
> [YouTube Playlist for Part 1 of This 'Verse](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p5Qu4LOxzeg&list=PLXsFRQOeCtDzMHWQ232YcEwC3tm3nI9th)

>   
>  **Primary Deviance**
> 
> The first stage in a theory of deviant identity formation. Edwin Lemert conceptualized primary deviance as engaging in the initial act of deviance.
> 
> This is very common throughout society, as everyone takes part in basic form violation. Primary deviance does not result in a person internalizing a deviant identity, so one does not alter their self-concept to include this deviant identity.
> 
> It is not until the act becomes labeled or tagged that secondary deviation may materialize.
> 
> Lemert, Edwin. 1967. Human Deviance, Social Problems and Social Control. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall O'Grady, William. 2011. Crime in Canadian Context. Ontario: Oxford University Press
> 
>   
> 

~ + ~

Castiel picked up his favorite knife, holding it out so the overhead lighting reflected off the metal, making it shine. His big brother Gabe had given it to him for his twenty-first birthday. It was beautiful, perfectly weighted and balanced, and Cas kept it very sharp.

"I believe the next thing you did was cut off his little finger," Cas said as he walked up to the stainless steel table, which was bolted to the floor.

"No!" the man on the table yelled, squirming as he tried to get away. His brown hair was matted to his forehead, drenched in his own sweat.

The man wouldn't be able to get away. There were straps holding him down, placed strategically at his forehead, upper chest, hips, and another just above the knees along with four separate straps that held his wrists and ankles.

"Please, no," the man said, tears running down the sides of his face as he choked on his own fear. The eyebrow bar glinted in the light, and Cas wanted to pull it out, listen to the man scream.

"So you didn't cut his finger off?" Cas asked, one eyebrow arched upward. He looked the man in the eye, noticing the beautiful combination of brown with lighter yellow hues streaking through the darker color. "You did something else first?"

"I-I didn't do that," the man said, body shivering, goosebumps rising.

Cas frowned, as if he was puzzled and genuinely disappointed in the man's claims. "Mr. Caffrey, I assure you I read through your entire file and did a thorough investigation of my own. I do my best to avoid mistakes, but sometimes bad things happen. If you say you didn't cut off Chad's finger, then I believe you."

Mr. Caffrey relaxed against the table, then let out a noise of distress as Cas held the knife up to the man's right hand. "I said I didn't do it!" he yelled, panicking all over again, fighting his restraints.

Cas let out a wry chuckle. "I know, Mr. Caffrey. I'm not cutting off your little finger. I'm going to cut off your ring finger."

"No! Wait! I didn't do that either!" Mr. Caffrey said just as the blade nicked the skin, a small line of blood welling up on his tanned skin.

Cas sighed, lifting the blade and leaning against the table. The handle of the knife was warm in his hand, fitting perfectly. It couldn't have fit better if it had been made just for him. Knowing Gabe, he'd had it specially made, even though his brother would never admit it. "Well, now I think you're lying."

"No, really, I'm not," Mr. Caffrey said, shaking his head as much as he could, the edges of the strap leaving red lines on his forehead. "I didn't do anything to that kid."

Cas leaned down, his face inches from Mr. Caffrey's. His expression wasn't one of anger, but instead was relaxed and uncaring, detached. It intimidated the people on his table even more, which meant more fun for Cas. Mr. Caffrey smelled of fear, an acidic quality to his sweat that turned Cas on.

"I'm here to punish you for the things you've done. You know that," Cas said softly. "Now, I personally don't like being lied to, but this isn't really about me. It's about what you did to Chad Reynolds. So I'll let that one lie slide. I can assure you, though, I'll punish you for everything you did to Chad."

"No! Please!" Mr. Caffrey said, then let out a long, agonized scream as both his little and ring fingers were cut off by the sharp blade of Cas' eight-inch knife, a few short squirts of blood coming from the stumps before they started sluggishly oozing blood onto the table. It was beautiful.

Cas waited until the man had calmed some, merely whimpering instead of screaming. "I'm not sure how sharp _your_ knife was, but I'm pretty sure mine is sharper than the one you used on Chad. Consider it a courtesy. One you don't really deserve."

"Fuck you!" Mr. Caffrey screamed, then spit at him. A large glob of snot and spit that hit the front of Cas' plastic apron. "Fuck you, you fucking psychopath!"

"Thank you for the compliment," Cas said politely as he held the knife up, the man's blood dripping from the blade. "I'm very good at my job."

"You're sick!" Mr. Caffrey hissed, spit flying from his mouth as he spoke. "You're what's wrong with the world. Not people like me. It's you fucking psychopaths!"

"Oh, I don't think so," Cas said, smiling, "and neither does the government."

"That's because they're just as fucking psycho as the rest of you sickos in the CON," he said, defensive and scared out of his mind, lashing out in the only way he could.

Cas nodded. "It _is_ true that we're not what you would call normal people, but the Handlers who assign us to our cases go through stringent psychological testing and regular counseling. They're also audited twice yearly. It's not easy working with people like me, but there are plenty of rewards. So no, I'd have to disagree with you on your assessment of the very fine people who run the Correctional Operations Network."

"I didn't do it," Mr. Caffrey said, giving up on attacking with his words. "I didn't hurt that kid. I never touched him. Your precious CON got it wrong."

"Oh, did you think that Cleaners like me just blindly follow the CON?" Cas asked, nose scrunched up. "Huh, well, you learn something new every day. No, Cleaners don't just take their assignments and run off to happily let our dark side out to play. We're much more meticulous and calculating than you give us credit for."

"Yeah, I'm sure," Mr. Caffrey said, voice monotone and eyes a little unfocused as the shock of his situation set in. That or he was sensitive to blood loss. He hadn't lost much. Yet.

"You can believe whatever you want to believe," Cas said, shrugging, "but the CON never found out about Rick or Brianna."

The man's eyes widened, his jaw dropping open, breath catching in his chest. "How did you find out about that?!" he asked, voice quivering. He'd already broken one blood vessel in his eye from all the screaming, the white of his eye stained a beautiful pinkish red.

"I do my own research," Cas said, giving his victim a small smile. "I don't trust anyone, even the government agency that pays my bills."

"But I... But...," the man stammered, breathing a little uneasy and ragged. "How? I got rid of everything!"

"I talked with the other dealers," Cas said, leaning in a little closer to take another whiff of that acidic fear sweat. "You hired Rick and Brianna because they were runaways. You thought no one would miss them if something went wrong on a drug deal."

"They weren't kids," Mr. Caffrey said, biting out the word like a curse.

"No, but runaways don't form many attachments, even as adults," Cas said flippantly. "Or at least that's what most people think. In fact, runaways form very strong attachments to a small group of friends. They watch out for each other and they all notice when one goes missing."

"Those fucking little vagrants? You believe the shit that comes out of their filthy mouths?" Mr. Caffrey said, almost vibrating with rage.

"If you're kind to people and feign interest in their lives," Cas said, tilting his head to the side, "they'll tell you anything you want to know."

"I didn't kill them," Mr. Caffrey said through clenched teeth, spit bubbling out from between his teeth in a way that amused Cas.

"I know," Cas said, nodding. "You made sure they knew exactly how angry you were, then you sold them."

"Are you going to sell me?" the man asked, an almost hopeful tone to his voice.

Cas chuckled, squashing that hope very quickly. "No. You won't survive everything that was done to the seven people you've hurt."

"Seven?!" the man blurted, indignant.

"The CON knew about Chad, Marissa, and Kate," Cas said, "but they won't mind if I go ahead and punish you for Rick, Brianna, Casey, and Haley too. Did I miss anyone? Feel free to tell me."

There was a momentary flash of surprise on Caffrey's face, but it quickly bled away, and the man let out a chuckle. "You've got me there. The only one you missed was my first wife. I never sent her to the hospital, but I smacked her around a lot. You fucked up and missed something in your research," he said, beyond fear and bordering on hysterical as he laughed at himself.

"Thank you for your honesty, Mr. Caffrey," Cas said, then backhanded the man across the face hard enough that a tooth was knocked loose and blood sprayed out onto the steel table. "This shouldn't take more than a few hours."

Cas finished cleaning up after himself, using the shower in the bathroom built onto the side of his kill room. His kill room was a very nice setup. One he wouldn't have had without backing from the government. It was conveniently fitted with a drain and power washer as well as a wide variety of tools, tables, and anything else Cas could possibly want.

Counters ran the length of two walls, an L-shape starting directly to one's left as they walked in the door, and across from the door was another smaller counter top. There were plenty of built-in drawers under the counter tops, everything raised three inches from the floor so Cas could easily clean underneath and, once the drawers were closed, the spray from the washer wouldn't penetrate the weather sealing on the drawers. There were more cabinets attached to the walls over the counter tops, slimmer cabinets that could hold smaller tools, then a locker to the right of the door that held his cleaning supplies.

He took one last look around the room, then locked the door on the way out, heading for the back door of his home naked so that he wouldn't cross-contaminate even though he was very meticulous about cleaning his kill room and likely wouldn't cross-contaminate anyway. The washer and dryer in the attached bathroom allowed him to keep everything separate from his home, where he had another washer and dryer for personal use.

Cas changed into jeans and a soft gray T-shirt before making himself a sandwich and sitting down at his desk in the office with a glass of milk. His cell phone rang, and just as he was about to hit 'ignore' he realized it was his Handler.

"Novak," Cas answered.

"Hey, Cas," Dean said, a smile evident in his tone of voice. "How'd it go?"

"It's finished," Cas said around a bite of sandwich. "I'll send the forms to you after I get done eating."

"Ooh, what'cha havin' tonight?" Dean asked, interested and enthusiastic.

"A sandwich," Cas said, more relaxed now that he'd been able to work on Caffrey for a while.

"What kind of sandwich?" Dean's voice was playful.

Cas sighed. He liked Dean, but sometimes the man was just too nosy. "Ham and cheese with lettuce and mustard."

"Sounds good," Dean said. "I had a microwave dinner. It sucked."

Cas played with the lettuce sticking out of his sandwich. Dean always tried to charm him, would ask him to dinner or try to come over with pizza and a few movies and beer, but Cas always turned him down, besides the times he occasionally ate meals in the kitchen with him.

He didn't need to form attachments, and Dean was already close enough with his breakfast sandwiches and coffee and that little thing where he was the voice in Cas' ear when he was on assignment.

"Do you have a case for me?" Cas asked, hoping to stop the small talk.

Dean chuckled. "What do you say?" he drawled.

Cas never could figure out why he felt such a flare of anger and irritation in his chest at the same time as he felt something like fondness. Or at least what others had described to him as fondness. Cas wasn't sure. It was confusing and completely unnecessary. Dean did that to him.

"Please," Cas said, patronizing his Handler.

"Even serial killers should have good manners," Dean said, and Cas could hear the grin.

Cas wondered if Dean would like to see his kill room. Up close and personal. "Are you sending the documents to me?" he asked.

"Yup, they should be in your account already," Dean nearly chirped, totally pleased with himself for getting Cas to be polite.

Cas let out another sigh as he leaned forward and grabbed his mouse, clicking his way to the CON's website and filling in his username and password. "Thank you, Dean."

"You're welcome, Hot Wings," Dean said.

"Dean, I told you not to call me-," he started, but was cut off when Dean hung up on him. Cas took a cleansing breath, forcing away the irritation, then started looking through the files Dean had dumped into his account.

Dean was the only one who could get under his skin. The only one Cas ever _let_ get under his skin. He knew it would bite him in the ass one day, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

Cas slid down in the front seat of his black SUV, settling in for an evening of watching his latest case. He didn't interfere in the first few days. No matter what.

It was a job that 'normal' people just couldn't handle, and that's why the CON had been formed years ago. Someone with compassion and empathy couldn't sit there and calmly watch while a person was hurt or killed by a repeat offender or serial killer. It was human nature to try and stop it from ever happening in the first place.

That's where police, FBI, and other agencies failed. They were quick to swoop in and save people, and that's where they fucked up.

The CON wasn't in place to catch people who were simply violent or committed petty crimes. It was in place for the worst. The ones who were hard to catch, manipulative, sneaky, intelligent, and very dangerous. Those who had a high kill count.

Sending a team of trained professionals after someone like that resulted in unnecessary death, evidence was destroyed or never found, and the legal system, in their attempts to be fair, often couldn't do what was needed, especially if there was questionable evidence or defense lawyers who were too good at their jobs.

The CON was a good solution to a fucked up situation. There were serial killers in the world who not only enjoyed their profession, but they also didn't mind having cases assigned to them if it paid well and allowed them to work without threat of being thrown in prison.

Cas signed up the day he turned eighteen. Now, fifteen years later he was highly respected, got some of the most difficult cases, and had a very high success rate.

Darryl Coulter didn't know Cas was watching him, so Darryl wasn't worried about flirting with the pretty girl he wanted to take home and kill. Cas watched as Darryl smiled and laughed and bought her a nice dinner out on the patio of a nice restaurant.

Maria didn't know Cas was watching them, and she didn't know her blind date was a serial killer, so she wasn't worried about flirting back. Cas watched as she giggled, rubbed her knee against Darryl's under the table, and allowed him to feed her a few bites of steak from his fork.

Cas and Darryl knew about the drugs that had been slipped into her drink, but when Maria started to feel a little sick to her stomach, she was surprised. Cas couldn't hear either of them, but he was good at reading lips, and when Darryl offered to drive her home early, she accepted.

Her legs were wobbly, which had nothing to do with the high-heeled shoes she was wearing, but Darryl had an arm around her middle and acted the part of a concerned date, asking her if she was okay, if she minded that he put her seatbelt on for her, and he made sure her legs and arms were out of the way before closing the passenger door on his shitty old sedan.

Following them home, Cas wondered if Maria was paying attention to where Darryl was taking her, because it wasn't her neighborhood. By the time they pulled into the garage, her head was on Darryl's shoulder, and any chance she had of escaping was long gone.

Cas parked his SUV around the corner, then walked to Darryl's house. He was wearing black jeans and a black mock turtle neck that allowed him to blend into the darkness, his black boots quiet on the pavement.

It was a quiet neighborhood. Mostly young families with kids, both parents working to make ends meet, and the yards and homes were kept up as best they could given their schedules.

Darryl used his daughter's bedroom to kill. The same daughter that he no longer had custody of because his wife had left him two years ago. The separation had set him off. He'd lost it and hadn't been right since. His ex had lied in court, said awful things about him, and Darryl had watched as his little girl had waved goodbye to him for the last time.

Cas assumed that was why each of the women Darryl murdered had long, light brown hair and dark brown eyes. They looked so much like his ex-wife that Cas could have picked out Darryl's next victim for him.

Darryl's daughter looked more like her daddy. She had dark brown, almost black hair, green eyes, and was way too innocent and sweet to be left in the care of Darryl's bitch of an ex.

That wasn't Cas' business, though. Cas had been given Darryl's case, and unless he put in a special request, he had to leave the former Mrs. Coulter alone. No matter how many bruises Darryl's daughter had.

And that was another reason why the CON worked so well. Anyone with compassion or empathy would've looked at Darryl's case and felt bad for him. Sure, he was murdering women, but under the monster's shell was a broken man. A man who had been abused by his ex-wife, then had to sit by and watch as that same woman had lied about it all, taking his daughter from him. Darryl didn't know his ex was hurting their daughter, but the pain that woman had caused him was enough to break anyone who had devoted their life to their child.

Cas wasn't involved emotionally. He'd like to get his hands on the former Mrs. Coulter, but not out of some sense of revenge or anger. And he wasn't after Darryl for those reasons either. Emotions didn't trip him up or get in the way, and it made Cas good at what he did. It made all the Cleaners in the CON good at what they did.

The light came on in the daughter's room, and Cas backed up against the fence in the back yard, able to see fairly well through the window. He'd researched and learned all he could from Darryl's files, as had Dean, but files couldn't tell him how Darryl's brain worked. That was something Cas needed to see first-hand.

Darryl was carrying the woman. She was drowsy and mostly limp, one high-heeled shoe having fallen off sometime after pulling her out of the car, but she wasn't unconscious. He dropped her onto the bed and started undressing her. There was nothing sexual about what Darryl did, Cas knew, but what he wasn't sure of was the reason the women never had their own clothes on when the police found them.

Cas watched as Darryl left the woman naked on the bed, then walked into his own bedroom. Cas crept around the corner of the house so he could look in Darryl's bedroom window. There were curtains obstructing his view for the most part, but he was able to see through the slit between the panels. Darryl opened the closet and Cas had his answer.

Darryl's ex had been a shopaholic. She hadn't bothered taking any of her clothes with her when she left. She didn't need to when she was getting alimony and child support. Darryl pulled out a short sundress that was white with little blue flowers all over it.

Instead of holding it carefully, he yanked it off the hanger and slammed the closet door shut, the waistline of the dress bunched up in his fist as he stalked back to his daughter's room.

Cas walked back around the corner in time to see Darryl putting the dress on Maria. She was confused and disoriented, but didn't have a choice in the matter as Darryl zipped up the dress. Cas noted the pretty red nipple rings she had as her breasts flopped this way and that, Darryl caring less about them than he would a casserole he was preparing in the kitchen.

Darryl was distracted by what he was doing, so Cas got closer. He could hear Maria crying, begging that he just let her go, speech slurred and voice not all that loud. It was no wonder the neighbors hadn't heard the women being killed.

"You don't get to tell me what to do anymore," Darryl said, opening the drawer of his daughter's dresser and pulling out a long rod made of wood. He kept it in a plastic bag.

Another piece of the puzzle fell into place. Cas had seen the pictures of the other women, and he'd seen pictures of Darryl and his wife. They had something in common. Darryl tried to hide the bruises, but sometimes his clothes didn't quite cover them. The bruises in all the pictures fit with the damage from a rod like the one Darryl was holding.

"You fucking cunt!" Darryl hissed as he brought the rod down on Maria's stomach.

She was too weak to fight, and didn't even scream with the wind knocked out of her. She curled in on herself, but it didn't stop the violence. Cas watched, taking note of the controlled way Darryl was hitting her. Each strike was planned and placed just where he wanted it to be, stopping to reposition her when she flinched or twisted enough to hide a portion of her body he wanted to hit, and Cas wondered if it was a practiced fantasy of Darryl's to do the same to his ex or if those were all the places he'd been hit.

The final strike was a blow to her head, cracking her skull open. Each strike had been exactly the same as all the photos Cas had looked at from the crime scenes. The police had no idea who Darryl was or where he killed the women. There just hadn't been enough evidence yet because the kills were done in one place and the bodies dropped at another. No witnesses. No leads. So the case had been given to Cas.

As Cas watched the man clean up, carefully pulling on gloves and wrapping her up in a bag, changing his clothes, and wiping down the entire bedroom, changing the linens on the bed, he knew the police would've never found anything. Darryl was good, but not good enough to keep under the radar of another serial killer.

Darryl left the bodies in areas where they weren't quickly found, damaging what little evidence he might have left behind. The only reason Cas had found him was because Cas' brain worked like a serial killer's. The dump sites weren't so random, and Cas waited, finally seeing the man with the last kill he'd made and following him on his winding path home.

Once Darryl was done cleaning up after Maria, Cas followed him to the new drop site, texting the address to Dean once Darryl had doused the body in a toxic mixture of bleach and ammonia, further destroying evidence as the fumes rose from her body, creating a beautiful scene.

Darryl was wearing a gas mask, and as he walked away from the body, mist rising from her, garbage and filth surrounding them in the alleyway, darkness creeping in save the moonlight hitting her body and the back wall of the complex, Cas found himself unable to look away. Darryl pulled the mask off, and the movements were practiced, easy. Cas appreciated good work, and Darryl had been fun to watch.

It was a bad section of town, and no one would dare speak up about a body left in an alleyway behind the apartments. It wouldn't have been found for a while either.

Darryl went home, had a beer, then went to bed, sleeping better than he had the night before. No tossing and turning. No pacing the house. No midnight snacks or TV watching. Darryl was calm for the time being. Until the urge flared again.

"How's it goin', Cas?" Dean asked, way too cheerful for seven o'clock on a Tuesday morning.

Cas turned the ear bud down just a little as he rolled over in bed. "I'm fine."

"Did I wake you up?" Dean asked.

"Yes," Cas said, and he really should've been irritated, but he wasn't.

"Well, since you weren't doing anything, you wanna go out to breakfast with me?" Dean asked, hopeful tone to his voice.

"I _was_ doing something," Cas said, words a bit slurred because half of his face was smashed against the pillow.

"But I'm hungry," Dean whined, "and I know you are too. You spent hours last night watching Damon."

"Darryl," Cas corrected, even though he knew Dean had used the wrong name on purpose.

"Whatever," Dean said. "C'mon. I found this really quiet place that's got awesome pancakes."

Nobody knew him as well as Dean did. If anybody could get him to go out to breakfast, Dean could.

"I'm tired," Cas said, "and I'm finishing the Coulter case tonight, so I need some rest."

"You also need to have some fun," Dean insisted, "and you didn't eat yet. I can hear your stomach growling."

"No, you can't," Cas said, reaching up to end the call.

"Wait!" Dean said, as if he could see Cas getting ready to hang up on him.

"What?" Cas asked, finger hovering over the tiny button on his earbud.

"Will you eat if I bring food to your house?" Dean asked.

Cas hit the button, eyes already closed. His bed was warm, his pillow the perfect size and shape, and his blanket was soft. It didn't take long for him to fall asleep again.

"No," Cas groaned into the pillow not even thirty minutes later when he heard someone in his house.

He wasn't concerned. He knew it was Dean. Even if it wasn't, which it was, they would've made a huge mistake by breaking into a serial killer's house.

"Breakfast!" Dean said from the doorway of Cas' bedroom.

"I sleep with a gun _and_ a knife," Cas grumbled.

"Pancakes," Dean sing-songed.

"Pancakes don't taste very good when I shove them up your ass," Cas hissed as he sat up in bed, scowling at Dean.

"Ooh, kinky," Dean said, smirking. "You're already awake, I brought pancakes and bacon and eggs and toast and fruit," he said, counting off everything on his fingers.

"Okay, okay," Cas said, sliding off the bed and walking to his en suite bathroom completely naked.

He turned just before he walked through the doorway and caught Dean checking him out.

"You also know I sleep in the nude," Cas said.

"I do," Dean said, nodding, completely shameless.

Cas rolled his eyes and walked into the bathroom. He pissed with the door open, because it was _his_ bathroom, damn it.

"I didn't come empty-handed," Dean said.

Cas glanced at him over his shoulder. "I know. You brought food."

"No, I knew that wouldn't get you all excited," Dean said with a huff. "I brought a new case so you wouldn't slit my throat for getting you out of bed."

Cas flushed the toilet and turned to wash his hands. "Thoughtful, but I don't really feel like cleaning up all the blood this morning."

"Oh, okay, well, you still have a new case," Dean said, shrugging.

Cas brushed by Dean and grabbed his jeans, pulling them on while Dean ogled. "I'm not finished with the Coulter case. You know I only work on one case at a time."

"Yeah," Dean said, "but I think you'll like this one. And it'll give you incentive to finish Donald."

"Darryl," Cas said, pulling his biggest and oldest T-shirt over his head. It was soft and warm and had stains on it from when he was a teenager. But it was his favorite. "I don't need incentive. Unless you've forgotten, my incentive is finishing a case. You know, the whole killing part?"

Dean walked ahead of him as they went out to the kitchen, and Cas took the opportunity presented and ogled Dean's ass right back while the man was too busy watching where he was going.

"I know," Dean said, heading straight for Cas' cupboard and pulling out two plates like he owned the place, "but it's a really cool case. Something you're gonna like."

"It can wait," Cas said as he sat down at the kitchen table.

Dean sat down and set a plate in front of each of them, then started pulling boxes out of a paper bag. There were plastic sporks in the bag, but Cas hated using plastic cutlery, so he stood up and walked to the counter, grabbing two forks and two knives out of the top drawer before sitting down again.

"Not even a little hint?" Dean asked as he used a spork to pile eggs on each of their plates.

"No," Cas said, stabbing three pancakes with his _real_ fork and dropping them onto Dean's plate before doing the same for himself.

"Okay, but I think you'd be really interested in the fact that the guy saves the left ear of all his victims," Dean teased, grinning at Cas.

He stopped grinning when Cas reached out and grabbed his neck, pulling him close, their faces so close that Cas could feel Dean's breath on his lips. Dean's eyes widened as he realized he'd pushed a little too far.

"I'll research the case when I'm done with Darryl," Cas said, voice completely calm and controlled.

"Sorry," Dean said with a sheepish look on his face, the spork in his lap along with some of the eggs that he'd been putting on Cas' plate.

Cas wondered if Dean sometimes forgot just what Cas was. He saw quite a lot and heard even more, but Dean never seemed to develop a fear of Cas. Oh, he had a healthy respect of him. If he hadn't, Dean wouldn't have lasted a week being Cas' Handler. 

Dean gave him an adorably charming smile as Cas let go of him, scooping up the eggs with his spork and eating what had fallen onto his jeans.

"I got your coffee just the way you like it," Dean said, dropping the spork into the paper bag before setting a large coffee in front of Cas. "All the girly cream you can handle."

Cas wanted to punch Dean in the balls. It was a sudden urge, but he controlled himself. He pulled the top off the cup and, just like Dean had promised, he found the perfect amount of caramel macchiato. Really it was only about two tablespoons of the liquid. Cas just liked a little bit of sweetness, and Dean had watched closely the first time they'd gotten coffee at Cas' favorite little place down the street. Ever since then, Dean had gotten him coffee exactly the way Cas liked it. Not that Cas really liked coffee, but if Dean was going to buy it for him and put in some sweetness, then Cas would drink it.

"Thank you, Dean," Cas said after taking a sniff of his morning coffee.

"Eh, wasn't a problem," Dean said. "I was hungry, you were hungry, we had a late night, and I missed your face."

"You just saw me yesterday," Cas said.

Dean shrugged. "Yeah, but I had to listen to you and your heavy breathing all night."

"I don't breathe heavily," Cas said, frowning.

"I'm the guy on the other end of the microphone," Dean said, chomping on a piece of bacon. "I think I'd know if you were a heavy breather."

Cas let out a huff. "If I were that loud, I'd never be able to sneak up on anyone."

"No," Dean said, shaking his head and using a second piece of bacon to point at Cas, "you're freakishly quiet when you're hunting, like sometimes I wonder if our connection has dropped because you're just so quiet, but when you're watching someone kill? That's a totally different story. You were practically panting last night when Darryl was doin' the deed."

"No, I wasn't," Cas said, and he knew he was pouting, but he didn't care.

Dean smirked. "Okay, well, you're the guy in charge, so if you say you don't get all hot and heavy when you watch your targets doing what they do best, then you must not."

Cas ignored him. Or at least he tried to. Dean, unfortunately enough, was hard to ignore. Especially when he was grinning and self-satisfied. Cas wondered what he'd look like after an orgasm or two. Probably even more cocky than he looked the rest of the time. Bastard.

"I'm killing tonight," Cas said, changing the subject.

"Yeah, I heard you the first time," Dean said with a mouthful of food.

"Coulter is content for the time being," Cas said, "and I'd like to take him when he's still relaxed and feeling the high from his kill."

"When you wanna leave?" Dean asked as he spread some fake butter on his toast.

Cas didn't like fake butter. He could taste the chemicals in it. Thankfully, Dean had also brought some little packets of strawberry jelly. Cas squeezed them out onto his sourdough toast.

"Seven forty-five," Cas said.

"Not seven forty-nine?" Dean asked, straight-faced.

Cas got another urge. He had a lot of them when he was around Dean. Well, if he was being honest, he got a lot of urges around a lot of people, but Dean was the only one he wanted to hurt _and_ pleasure. He hadn't fucked anyone in a long time, and even though his hand was more than enough when he felt the need to release some tension, he couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to make Dean scream in pain.

He wondered if Dean could come from pain like Cas could. Not many people could come from pain, and an even smaller number of people could come from the screams and struggling of another human being as they begged and cried. Cas could.

"Seven forty-five," Cas said again. "If you're late, I'll hurt you."

"Promises, promises," Dean said.

Cas didn't twist the skin of Dean's upper arm, but he really wanted to.


	2. Chapter 2

"Come in, Hot Wings," Dean said through the earbud. "Hot Wings, come-"

"Stop calling me that," Cas hissed, then took a quick look around in case someone in Darryl's neighborhood had heard him.

If Cas were more socially adept, he'd have come up with a nickname for Dean that annoyed the man, but Cas wasn't good with people. At least not when he wasn't killing them.

Cas was early. It was seven forty, and Dean was early too, but only because he knew Cas well enough that seven forty-five actually meant seven forty in Cas-speak. Cas was pleased with his Handler.

"So where are you?" Dean asked.

"You know where I am," Cas whispered. "You have access to the GPS."

"Just tell me where you are so I can calibrate it," Dean said, and Cas just knew he was rolling his eyes.

"I'm one block east of Darryl's home," Cas said. "I'm in my SUV, watching the house."

"Okay, it's calibrated," Dean said. "Now tell me what you're wearing."

Cas frowned, looking down at himself even though he knew what he had on. "I'm wearing black jeans, a black T-shirt, and my boots. Why?"

"Mmm, sexy," Dean said, voice low and sultry. "Wanna know what I'm wearing?"

Cas sighed, finally getting it. "We're working. Stop trying to have phone sex."

Dean laughed. "Fine, I'll stop. We're doing serious business."

Cas got another one of those urges. "Were you able to get into his home computer?"

"Of course!" Dean said.

"And?"

"And he's got interesting taste in porn," Dean said, and Cas could just see the face Dean was pulling.

"Other than the porn," Cas said, irritation making his fingers twitch. Did other serial killers put up with shit like this from their Handlers? Cas didn't think so.

"There were pictures too," Dean said.

Cas wrapped his fingers around the steering wheel, his leather gloves squeaking against the steering wheel cover. "What kind of pictures?" he asked, really forcing the patience.

"Midget porn," Dean said.

"Dean!" Cas growled, then looked around the neighborhood again. He really shouldn't have had his window rolled down.

"You asked!" Dean said, then chuckled.

"I need a new Handler," Cas said.

"Aw, you don't mean that," Dean said, chuckling.

Cas didn't. He'd said it before, but both of them knew Dean was the only Handler Cas would accept. Dean hadn't been his first, but his first had to be put in the hospital after he overstepped his bounds and Cas almost killed him. Others hadn't fared well either. As infuriating as Dean was, he never pushed _that_ hard, and he trusted Cas to know what to do in any given situation. Victor hadn't. Victor had a permanent limp to show for it.

"What was in the fucking computer," Cas said, surprising himself with the lack of control. He was on a case. He couldn't lose his composure like that.

"Nothing, Cas," Dean said, a tiny amount of apology in his voice. "There were lots of family photos, especially of his little girl, but no porn, nothing exciting in his Internet history or searches, and no documents that were even questionable. He mostly used the computer to look at the pictures of his kid and watch stupid videos on YouTube."

And that was why Dean was still his Handler. Dean had noticed that he was teasing Cas too much and had switched to business mode quickly and easily. He didn't apologize, wasting more time, and instead just gave Cas the facts. Dean knew how to handle Cas. 

"No dating sites?" Cas asked.

"Nope, just like I told you when I did the initial search for him," Dean said. "He doesn't have any dating profiles anywhere, no dating sites bookmarked or visited."

"So the only source for the women is the mixers he's been attending on weekends and people he meets when he's out," Cas said more to himself than Dean. It was just like he'd suspected, but he liked to be sure. He didn't want any surprises showing up at Darryl's door while he was grabbing him.

"And he doesn't have a security system," Dean added.

Cas knew that too, but it was nice to have it confirmed by Dean. Dean could search records Cas couldn't get into easily. Most of what Cas found with his research was physical. He liked tangible evidence. But he trusted Dean to tell him the things he couldn't find on his own.

"I'm going in," Cas said.

"What, now?" Dean asked, a bit of panic in his tone of voice.

"Why not?" Cas asked as he parked in front of the house next to Darryl's.

"You usually start later than this," Dean said. "It's only eight o'clock. We're in a neighborhood that's kinda nice and there are families all over the place."

"Eight to nine o'clock in a neighborhood like this is when parents are fighting with their kids about taking a bath and getting to bed at nine o'clock," Cas said. "Fathers are tuning out even very loud noises and mothers can't hear anything over their children."

"Huh, okay," Dean said, obviously impressed.

"All clear?" Cas asked.

"Yeah, I was just checking," Dean said.

Cas drove up to the front of the house and parked by a large tree, obstructing the view in case Darryl looked out his front window. Cas didn't lock the SUV in case he needed to hurry and put the keys in his left jeans pocket. He was ambidextrous, but tended to use his right hand more for heavy lifting, so as he was dragging a limp body out of a house, he would need his left hand to get the keys.

Darryl didn't usually lock the back door until he went to bed, and he was watching TV in the living room, so Cas crept around to the back of the house and went in through the unlocked kitchen door.

The television was loud, and Cas kept an eye out for anything unusual as he made his way toward the living room, silently stepping down the hallway on the rug. He rounded the corner into the living room and was almost disappointed to see the drugs he'd put into every single one of Darryl's bottles of beer had done their job.

He hadn't put very much in because Darryl tended to drink three to four beers, and Cas didn't want he man to die before he got him to the kill room. Cas moved forward cautiously, counting four bottles, one of which was still in Darryl's hand, a bit of it having spilled onto his chest as he lay on his back, snoring loudly, feet up on the coffee table, head tilted back.

Cas took the bottle from his hand and set it on the coffee table, which gave him a chance to see just how out of it Darryl was before he tried to move him. Taking the bottle from him hadn't even made the man whimper in his sleep, so Cas pinched his arm. Still nothing, so Cas pulled out his zip ties and put one of them around Darryl's ankles and one around his wrists, making sure they were secure before he hefted Darryl onto his shoulder.

The man was just as tall as him, but he wasn't as well-built, so Cas didn't have much trouble carrying him out of the house, leaving through the back door in case any neighbors were watching. He left the TV going.

"Tell the cleanup crew they can start tomorrow morning," Cas said as he dumped Darryl in the back of his SUV and climbed into the front seat.

"All clear?" Dean asked.

"All clear, and I'll be busy for about two hours," Cas said, snagging the wood rod before he left.

"Keep your earbud in," Dean said.

"You know I'm not going to do that," Cas said for what felt like the millionth time.

"Cas, c'mon," Dean said, and Cas could hear a little fear in his voice. "The guy flipped out after his wife took the kid. He's unpredictable."

"Just like almost everyone else I've Cleaned."

"Yeah, but I worry about you when you go off radio," Dean said.

"I have a panic button in the kill room," Cas said as he headed home.

"I know, but...," Dean said, then let out a little puff of air through his nose. It always made Cas picture a dragon in a flannel shirt when Dean did that. "C'mon, just lemme listen in."

Cas smirked. "You're not worried about me at all. You just want to hear me work."

Dean chuckled. "Mostly I'm worried about you, but yeah, I'd like to hear you work too."

"No," Cas said.

"Oh, c'mon!" Dean whined. "You never let me listen!"

"It's my time," Cas said. It was something they'd discussed more than once. "I need to give Darryl my full attention, and you know I'm not just doing this for a paycheck or to rid the world of evil. I _like_ working alone. I enjoy my work."

"If I keep bugging you, will you let me watch one day?" Dean asked.

"I doubt it," Cas said.

"Hey, Cas?"

"Yes, Dean."

"You're not gonna play with him, are you?" Dean asked, concerned tone to his voice.

Cas sighed. "He's killing because he's been hurt. He's not playing around with these women, so I have no reason to do the same."

It was another thing they'd discussed many times. Cas liked to play with anyone who was particularly sadistic or manipulative. He'd untie them with a minimal amount of drugs in their system. He'd let them loose in the kill room and take his time with them, just like they did with their victims. It freaked Dean out.

"Promise?" Dean asked.

Cas nodded even though Dean couldn't see him. "I promise."

"Sorry, I just worry about you," Dean said, letting out a huff of laughter, most likely laughing at himself for being so worried about a serial killer.

"I know," Cas said, "but you don't have anything to worry about. I'll see you tomorrow for the briefing on the new case."

"G'night, Cas."

"Goodnight, Dean."

Darryl was panting, eyes wide as he realized he wasn't in his house, wasn't lounging on his couch. Strapped naked to a table tended to register pretty quickly inside a person's head after Cas used smelling salts to wake them up.

"Who are you?!" Darryl asked, struggling.

"I'm the one who gets to hold you accountable for what you've done," Cas said as he tapped Darryl's chest with the rod the man had used to kill all those women. The rod he'd been beaten with himself.

"Oh, fuck!" Darryl whimpered as he wet himself, urine spraying out over his left thigh. "Y-you're a Cleaner! Fuck. Oh, fuck. Fuck!"

"So you know why you're here," Cas said instead of asked.

Darryl nodded. Or at least he tried to. "I killed them. The women."

"How many?" Cas asked even though he knew.

Darryl closed his eyes, tears running down the sides of his face into his hair. "Before you kill me, can I ask a favor?"

Cas tapped him with the rod again. "I'd rather you tell me how many women you've beaten to death."

Darryl looked up at him, eyes desperate. "My daughter. You can find out if she's okay. You'll find out the truth. I know I'm asking a lot, but could you please put in a special request and kill her mother if she's hurting Cara?"

"What if she's not?" Cas asked, enjoying the fear in the man's eyes. 

"If she's not hurting her, then just leave them alone," Darryl said, wincing. "I've always worried that she was taking all her frustrations out on Cara after she didn't have me to hit anymore, but no one would check up on her after the things my wife said about me in court. If she's not hurting Cara, then my daughter will probably have a nice life, but please, if that bitch is hitting her, kill her. Cara will go to my mom if both of us are dead."

"Your mother created you," Cas said. "Why would I hand a child over to your mother." He didn't really care, but it was fun to play with Darryl.

"It's not Mom's fault," Darryl said, closing his eyes for a moment. "It was her sister. She... did things to me when I was little. My ex-wife wasn't the first woman to hurt me."

Cas had known it, but he was surprised Darryl admitted it. He also knew Darryl's mother was a very nice woman. She'd made Cas a cup of tea and talked to him for almost an hour about her son.

"Not that it's any excuse," Darryl said. "My wife hurt me, and I never said anything, never tried to get help. And I chose to hurt all those women who looked like her. I was just so angry. So hurt. And I know I deserve whatever you're going to do to me."

"Yes, you do," Cas said, not sympathetic, but impressed by Darryl's blunt approach. He wasn't lying or trying to weasel his way out of it.

"Just...," Darryl said, bottom lip quivering. "Please. Don't do this for me. Do it for my kid. Look into it for her. See if she's okay."

"If you know what a Cleaner is, you know that's not a motivation for me," Cas said, shrugging. "I feel nothing for your kid."

"Okay, okay, wait," Darryl said, brow furrowing. "I know something you probably don't know."

"I doubt it," Cas said, "but go ahead."

"Fuck," Darryl said, squeezing his eyes shut, lips a tight line. When he looked up at Cas again he was determined, focused. "I took out my frustrations on my cousin when I was little."

"Your mother's sister's child?" Cas asked, interested.

"Yes. Oh, fuck, I can't...," Darryl said, starting to panic, eyes darting back and forth around the room, his body shivering, but then he shook his head, gathering his courage again. He took a few breaths, his body going rigid, almost as if he was physically pushing himself to speak. "I used needles on her. Every time her mom hit me when I was staying at their house, I'd take my cousin into the closet and cover her mouth, hold her tight, then I'd push sewing needles under her fingernails." He was panting, tired just from the effort of forcing his confession out.

"Her mother never noticed?" Cas asked. It wouldn't have been a surprise if that poor excuse for a mother hadn't noticed her own child was being tortured.

"She was a horrible mother," Darryl said, bottom lip quivering. "She hurt the kid more than she hurt me, and I knew that needles under the fingernails didn't leave very much damage behind, so no, she never noticed. Dianna was too scared to ever tell her mother."

Darryl had just given Cas what he needed in order to torture Darryl even more. The CON autopsied every body that the Cleaners had worked on, and if there were injuries inconsistent with the reports, a Cleaner could be fined, face prison time, or even get their own visit from a Cleaner. Darryl had known exactly how to bargain for his child's safety.

"I'll look into it," Cas said casually.

"Thank you! Thank you so much!" Darryl said, more tears running down the sides of his face.

"I'll put in a special request only if I find evidence of trauma," Cas said even though he already knew the woman was abusing the kid.

"That's all I ask for," Darryl said, still panting. "I know you'll find it if she's hurting her. None of the private investigators could ever find anything, but I know you'll find it if it's there to find."

"Is your aunt still alive?" Cas asked.

Darryl let out a huff of laughter. "No. That evil witch died years ago in a car accident. Driving drunk. She took out an entire family. But at least Dianna's free of her. Dianna's free of me too," he said, and Cas could see the remorse in his eyes. He'd seen it in the eyes of plenty of people on his table, but it never failed to fascinate him.

"Well, I'll have to change my plans just a bit," Cas said as he set the rod down between Darryl's legs. "I've got sewing needles, but I didn't know I'd be using them tonight."

"Fuck, oh shit, fuck, fuck," Darryl hissed, eyes following Cas as he walked to the steel drawers a few feet away from the table.

"What does it feel like to sacrifice yourself for your child?" Cas asked as he found his sewing needles. Everything was very organized, and he knew exactly where all of his things were.

Darryl let out some hysterical laughter. "Fuckin' scary as shit. But it's okay. She'll be okay. She'll be okay. My baby's gonna be okay," he said, convincing himself.

Cas walked up to the table, a long sewing needle between his index finger and thumb. Darryl couldn't stop staring at it as he shat himself, whimpering and shivering as the stench filled the air.

"I don't really feel that way for anyone," Cas said, shrugging.

"You've never cared about anyone?" Darryl asked, panting.

"I tolerate some people," Cas said, lips twitching into a bit of a smile.

"Everybody tolerates people," Darryl said, chuckling in a manic sort of way. "Ask anybody. It's hard to put up with the stupid shit people do to you, but what I'm talking about is somebody you tolerated more than you would other people. Has there ever been anybody who could say things you wouldn't allow anyone else to say? Somebody who could annoy you and make you wanna scream, but then one second later you wanted to hug them?"

Dean's face popped into his mind. "No," Cas said.

Darryl laughed. "You're lying. I'm really good at learning a person's tells. I had to so I could survive my aunt and my wife. You're lying. You already feel that way about somebody, you just don't realize the reason you feel that way is because you care about them. Cleaners suck at reading themselves," he said, hissing with laughter that sounded ridiculous, his mind fracturing more than it already was. "It's how I feel about my daughter. She'll make me wanna scream when she won't stop crying or when she throws a tantrum or gives me that bratty little look and tells me I'm wrong, but then she'll smile at me or give me a kiss on the end of my nose and call me Daddy, and holy fucking shit, I love that kid. She's everything to me. You don't know what it is because you've never felt it before, but somebody's got you. I can see it on your face."

Cas highly doubted Darryl could see it. One of the perks of being fucked in the head like all the doctors had informed him he was over the years was that he had a complete lack of facial expression unless he wanted to let others see more of him. It worked well for him, especially in his line of work. Darryl had to be grasping at straws.

"That won't stop me from killing you," Cas said.

"I fucking know that!" Darryl screamed, then calmed himself a little. "I know what I did. I know what you're gonna do. I just... I can't imagine lying on this table with nothing. I don't even want to think about how fucking sad it would be if you were standing over me and I never realized what that feeling was, if I never had a reason to tell you to shove sewing needles under my nails."

"You don't really know the difference between most people and Cleaners, do you?" Cas asked, smirking.

"Yeah, I do," Darryl said. "I know you think you don't care, and that's why I'm saying this. I'm fucked up. I know I am. So are you. But that doesn't mean we can't get something out of this shitty life. That person you thought of when your eyes got a little unfocused? Find that person and tell them how you feel, even if you don't know how to say it. Don't go through life only to end up on a Cleaner's table without anyone to sacrifice yourself for."

"It's only a weakness," Cas said, then held up the needle. "I'm about to push this needle under each of your fingernails, making you scream and shit yourself even more than you already have. Your love for your daughter did that. Weakness."

"You keep tellin' yourself that," Darryl said, smirking, "but you'll think of this the next time you see them. You'll wonder if they're worth that 'weakness' you hate so much."

Cas sighed. "This is taking way too long. I'm getting bored," he said, then shoved the needle under the nail of Darryl's right index finger.

The only reason Cas' neighbors didn't hear the screaming was because of the truly amazing job the builders had done on his soundproofing. His kill room was a work of art.

"What?" Cas nearly growled as he shoved the earbud into his ear, head still under the covers.

"Good morning," Dean said, way too cheerful for Cas' level of consciousness.

"Dean, you need to stop waking me up," Cas said, not ready to be functioning yet. "I was up until four in the morning cleaning and preparing the body for pickup by the crew. It's only," he said as he pulled the covers down just enough to look at his bedside clock, "eleven? Why am I still sleeping?"

"I was wondering the same thing myself," Dean said. "You feeling okay?"

Cas frowned. Four to five hours of sleep was usually his max unless he was sick. "I don't feel like I'm coming down with anything."

"Well, maybe you just needed the rest," Dean said, relieved. "You wanna sleep some more before I come over to review the new case with you?"

"No, I'm up now," Cas said. He usually couldn't get back to sleep if something woke him up, and seven hours was more than enough. He rubbed his eyes.

"Do you want burgers or breakfast sandwiches?" Dean asked.

Cas sighed as he sat up. "I want one of those Thanksgiving sandwiches from Capriotti's," he said, his stomach growling.

Dean chuckled. "You mean the turkey with dressing and cranberry sauce? I'll grab two of those. I should be there within fifteen minutes."

"Oh, and get me-"

"A cold bottle of their orange soda," Dean interrupted.

"And-"

"A bag of baked potato chips," Dean said, and Cas could just hear the smile.

"Are you in the truck yet?" Cas asked, slightly annoyed but also charmed by Dean's attitude.

"I'm in my _car_ , yes," Dean said, correcting the fact that Cas never really gave a shit whether Dean's vehicle was a car or a truck or a fucking bulldozer.

"Whatever," Cas said as he headed for the toilet, his bladder uncomfortably full after the long sleep.

"See you in a few minutes, baby," Dean said, then hung up on him before Cas could complain about the term of endearment.

Cas sighed as he pissed, still feeling a little hungover from sleeping so hard. He didn't like that feeling, and he was happy to only sleep four or five hours a night. It left plenty of time to do the things he needed to do. He washed his hands, then pulled his jeans and a faded red T-shirt on, not bothering to look in the mirror. He knew his hair was a mess, but he didn't care.

He started the coffee pot because Dean liked Cas' coffee. Just because Cas didn't really like coffee didn't mean he was useless with a coffee maker. He frowned as he realized the stupid coffee maker was in his home only because of Dean. Cas never had one before Dean had become his Handler.

In fact, he didn't even really like the lingering smell of coffee in his kitchen. It seemed to stay for hours, no matter how well he cleaned the pot and mugs.

Cas set some napkins on the table along with a couple plates, then sat down and waited for Dean. It was only about three minutes later that the front door opened.

"Food!" Dean yelled.

Cas rubbed a hand over his face. He'd tried to get Dean to stop announcing himself like that. It sounded ridiculous, but Dean insisted on being obnoxious, so Cas only scolded him about half the time.

Dean set the bag from Capriotti's on the kitchen table, then headed for the cupboard and pulled out a coffee mug. Cas didn't like his own coffee, so Dean didn't even bother asking if Cas wanted a cup.

"That hot chick was working the counter again," Dean said.

Cas rolled his eyes. She wasn't _that_ hot, but Dean seemed to enjoy telling Cas about her every time he saw her.

"She asked about you," Dean said as he plopped his ass down in the chair next to Cas.

"Why?" Cas asked as he unwrapped his sandwich.

"She thinks you're cute," Dean said.

Cas snorted. "She wouldn't if she knew I was a Cleaner."

"You think?" Dean asked, scrunching up his nose. "I dunno, she seems kinda feisty."

"Feisty is completely different than the 'my boyfriend kills people for a living' kind of girl," Cas said, hiding a grin behind his sandwich when Dean pulled a full-sized pie out of the bag. He'd known Dean wouldn't be able to resist. Wednesday was apple pie day, and Capriotti's made the best.

"Okay," Dean said, nodding, "but if you don't tell her about your job, then you can at least get laid. How long's it been?"

Two and a half years, but Dean didn't need to know that. "Why don't _you_ ask her out?"

"Not my type," Dean said, shrugging.

"She's cute, has dark hair, and she flirts with you every time you go into the shop," Cas said. "Sounds like your type."

"Nah," Dean said. "I don't like it when people try so hard to impress me. The only thing people like that are good for is some short-term fun. They don't really give a fuck about you."

"So you just keep talking about her because...?" Cas said, frowning at Dean.

"Dude, you need to get laid," he said, knocking his knee into Cas' under the table.

"I don't need your assistance," Cas said, the words harsh because he _really_ didn't need Dean's assistance in that department. At all. "I can take care of my own sex life without a Handler."

"Oh, sorry," Dean drawled. "I forgot how suave you are with the ladies."

Cas had another one of those urges. And instead of ignoring it, he swiped his finger through the cranberry sauce in his sandwich, then smeared it over Dean's left cheek.

Dean blinked at him for a moment before tilting his head back and laughing. "That was really childish. I can't believe you actually did that!"

"You're childish," Cas said. He knew it was a terrible come-back, but he wanted to hear Dean laugh more, and he did.

"Okay, okay," Dean said, wiping his face with his napkin, "I'll stop trying to set you up with Perky at the sandwich shop."

"Thank you," Cas said as he twisted the top off of his soda.

"I don't even know your type," Dean said. "I need more info before I can find someone else to throw at you."

"I thought you knew everything about me," Cas said. Dean didn't, but he liked to pretend he did.

"I know about some of the people you've been with over the years," Dean said, "but there doesn't seem to be any pattern that I can find. No similarities. I can't figure out what draws you to them. Sarah was a brunette and a little chunky. Tina was a blonde who was so skinny you could see her ribs. Carlo was this beefy guy who had a really thick accent and a chip on his shoulder. Wade was shorter than you and hadn't always been a dude."

"One might conclude that I don't give a fuck about my chosen partner's appearance or gender," Cas said, smirking.

"Oh," Dean said, mouth open and eyes wide. "Well, I hadn't thought of that, but yeah, it fits. And now I feel like a dork for missing that."

"Some researcher you are," Cas teased.

"Most people have a type," Dean said, licking some cranberry sauce from his upper lip. "I just assumed you did too."

"I'm not most people," Cas said.

"I know," Dean said, nodding. "So what is it that you find attractive?"

Cas shrugged. "I don't know."

"How can you not know?" Dean asked, frowning.

"I just don't," Cas said before munching on one of his baked chips. 

"Well, that's going to make it hard to get you laid," Dean complained.

"I didn't ask you to get me laid," he said, more interested in his sandwich than Dean's attempts to get him laid.

Dean grinned. "I took it upon myself to be your Handler in more than one sense of the word."

"I don't need your-"

"Assistance. Yeah, I know," Dean said, waving his sandwich at Cas. "But dude you're fuckin' hot, a nice guy, and it's really a waste of a cock that size to not be stickin' it to somebody."

Cas blinked at Dean for a moment. "Really? That's the argument you're going to use?"

Dean smiled, a mouthful of food not detracting from the charm as much as it should have. "Yup."

Cas shook his head, letting out a huff of laughter. "Tell me about the next case."

"That was a smooth change in subject," Dean grumbled, sarcasm in his tone of voice, but he leaned over and opened his briefcase with one hand, pulling out a manila envelope. "Whoever this is, they're going around saving the left ear from each of their victims. Trophies, I guess."

"And you thought I'd get a kick out of this case, why?"

"Because I know you better than you think I do," Dean said, a smug smile on his face as he handed the envelope to Cas.

Cas glared at him for a moment before taking the envelope. "No, you don't. You only think you know because of my files."

Dean leaned closer to Cas, lowering his voice. "So it doesn't interest you that this guy cuts the left ears of his victims off with a scalpel? All the lines clean and precise, like maybe he's a surgeon or just really fuckin' good at what he does?"

"No more than any other case," Cas said, shrugging.

"What, you think I can't do my own research?" Dean asked, indignant. "I can't talk to witnesses or dig around?"

"It doesn't matter who you've talked to or what you've found," Cas said nonchalantly. "You don't know, and you're not _going_ to know."

"But I know _you_ ," Dean insisted, "and you know I'm not stupid. My job is to look at everything up close and then from a distance, put it all together, and make a composite of what I've found. You're no different than anything else I put my mind to."

"Okay," Cas said, brushing him off as he scanned the pictures and reports.

"So you wouldn't care if I also said that there are abrasions around the lips, the roof of their mouths, and the backs of their throats?"

Cas kept his eyes on the paper in front of him, not really seeing it anymore. "Keep digging. You still don't have anything." It was forced ambivalence, but it would probably work on Dean.

Dean leaned closer. "Traces of latex in their mouths, finger-shaped bruises on their necks, jaws, and scalps?"

"I'll take the case," Cas said, forcing his voice to stay level, "but it's not the same serial killer."

"No?" Dean asked, frowning.

"The reports were wrong," Cas said. "The similarities aren't what you think they are."

"So how are they different?" Dean asked, grabbing a picture from the stack in the envelope and showing Cas the bruising.

"They are," Cas said, giving Dean a tight smile, "and if you really knew about me, you'd know the differences."

Dean let out a sigh as he leaned back. "You're never going to tell me, are you?"

Cas chuckled. "Nope."

"But what if we could find the guy that-"

"No," Cas said, cutting Dean off.

"Cas, this could be huge," Dean insisted. "If you tell me everything that happened, I could do a deep search. I could help you find that guy."

"He's part of why I'm the person I am today," Cas said, shrugging, "but only a small part. I don't feel a need for vengeance or justice. Did you forget why I'm a Cleaner?"

"You don't feel _anything_ about him?" Dean asked, his voice going a little soft, eyes a little more round, almost wounded. "Not even curiosity?"

"No," Cas said, leafing through the papers. "If I ever find him on my table, I'll kill him just like the others."

"Would you burn him?" Dean asked.

Cas set the papers down on the table in front of him, then wrapped his right arm around Dean's shoulders, pulling him closer. Dean held his breath, his body going stiff. He knew he'd pushed too far again, and Cas was going to remind him just how far he could be pushed.

He traced Dean's lips with his left index finger, grinning when Dean gasped, breathing again, but with ragged and irregular breaths. "That wasn't his fault," Cas whispered in Dean's left ear. "It was a long time ago. The reason I've got that beautiful scarring on my back isn't because some serial killer with a fire fetish played with me. It's because rookie cops busted in while he was in the middle of his ritual. But you know all this, and you're just trying to push until I slip up and tell you everything. That's not going to happen, so you can stop now."

Dean nodded, the movements spastic. "I'm stopping. Sorry, Cas," he said, turning to look at Cas, giving him a shaky smile. "I'm sorry."

"The only way you'll find out all the details is if we find him and you accompany me while I do my job," Cas said. "And...?"

"You're not gonna let me in your kill room while you're working," Dean said, dejected tone to his voice.

"Not unless you're the one on my table," Cas said, grinning as he pulled away and picked up his sandwich.

"Asshole," Dean said, but his voice was still a little strained even if he was trying to lighten the mood.

"That's why you stick around," Cas said. "You can't get enough of me."

Dean's eyes widened as Cas glanced meaningfully down toward Dean's crotch, where he was more than a little hard.

"Yeah, well," Dean drawled, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table to cover up his erection, "you know I'm not Mr. Normal. Otherwise I wouldn't have lasted very long being your Handler."

"It's a good thing you knew how to talk your way around the psych docs," Cas said. "Anyone who could pass their tests wouldn't last long with me."

Dean chuckled. "You figured that one out, huh?"

"You and your brother are very good at what you do," Cas said. "The CON needs you and others like you even if the CON doesn't know it."

Dean smiled. "Daddy raised us right."

"He gave you the skills, but your mom gave you the charm," Cas said.

Dean nodded. "Yeah, she's amazing. She can talk her way out of anything."

"Which is why the CON _still_ doesn't realize she does jobs on the side," Cas said, smirking.

Dean's eyes widened. "Are you threatening me?" he asked, fear in his eyes. "You wouldn't turn her in if I-"

"No," Cas said. "I'd never have a hand in putting a stop to the work of a master like your mother. I'm impressed, by both her _and_ her sons. Besides, she couldn't have a better Handler than your father. He gives her a reason to stay careful."

Dean relaxed for the first time in a few minutes. "Yeah. They're pretty awesome."

"Let's focus on the case, shall we?" Cas asked, tapping the stack of papers and photos with his finger.

"Okay," Dean said, nodding.


	3. Chapter 3

Cas didn't really like working with anyone who had hurt children. It wasn't because it upset him any more than anything else did, but he knew that he'd never be able to recreate an accurate scenario for his victim. He was a perfectionist, and he was proud of the work he did.

A child was small and defenseless, and even though he could scare the shit out of any adult he had on his table, they'd never feel that looming, large presence or the abject terror of never having felt pain worse than a skinned knee. Children had never experienced the emptiness of being truly alone, of having to rely on themselves and no one else.

"Let me go!" the woman screamed, thrashing about on the table.

Cas was waiting until she wore herself out a bit, then he was going to untie her. She'd been a sadistic little thing, even as a child, and a game of cat and mouse would be perfect for her.

"Let me go right now and I won't tell anybody you did this," she snarled, her blonde hair partially covering her face.

"I'm going to have to do something to you that you didn't do to Abby," Cas said, a little disappointed that he had to do it, "but to recreate her experiences, I'm going to have to cut your left Achilles tendon."

"No!" she screamed, toes curling as he stepped up to the table with his favorite knife in hand. "I didn't do that to her! Get away from me you stupid motherfucker! You can't do things to me that I didn't do to anyone!"

Cas slipped the knife under her ankle, flat side against her skin. "As I said, I realize you didn't do this to Abby, but according to the laws regarding my employment, I can make independent decisions as I see fit. Abby couldn't get away from you because she was disabled. Being her older sister in a home where your parents were rarely around, you had more than enough opportunity to take advantage of her disabilities."

"You can't do this!" she screamed, spit flying from her mouth. "Abby was a sniveling little cunt! Mom and Dad left me home alone with her all the time. I had to raise that diseased little thing. That wasn't fair. She was an awful child and tormented me from the time she was able to speak! I don't deserve this!"

"It doesn't matter what you think you deserve," Cas said, then turned the knife, sharp edge against her skin, then raised it, slicing through her Achilles without touching bone.

He waited until she was done screaming before holding the blade up, letting her see her own blood. He liked the way it made people squirm on his table. Some of them passed out, but he had smelling salts for just such an occasion.

"I'm going to let you up now, Ms. Price," Cas said, setting his knife down on his rolling cart.

"Thank you!" she said, body relaxing as the fight left her. "I won't tell anyone! I swear I won't tell anyone you let me go."

"I'm not letting you go," Cas said, smiling.

"What?" she said, eyes wide as Cas unbuckled the strap over her forehead.

"I said I was letting you up," Cas said, unbuckling the strap over her chest. She had nice tits, and if the situation had been different, he would've liked to fuck her, suck on her tits, and play with her nipples. She would probably be wild in bed. "I said nothing about letting you go."

"You fucking cocksucker!" Ms. Price howled, thrashing around.

The table was bolted to the floor, so there was no way she'd turn the table over, and Cas just kept unbuckling the straps. She continued screaming obscenities at him until the last strap on her ankle was released and she slid off the table backward. She screamed again as her heel hit the floor, exacerbating the pain from her Achilles tendon wound.

Cas stepped around to the other side of the table, looming over her. As she looked up at him, he realized he'd done quite well. He wouldn't be able to recreate that innocent terror a child would feel, but this would do nicely.

Ms. Price was a fighter, and she ignored her own pain as she threw herself at his legs, biting and scratching and kicking and punching. She was too weak to really hurt him between the drugs still in her system and the wound, but Cas didn't mind any of the pain she managed to inflict.

By the time Cas held the hammer up, ready to reenact the same blow that had taken the life of her ex-husband's son, Ms. Price didn't have the strength to scream. She coughed up some blood, twitched on the floor, and closed her eyes as the hammer came down.

"I'd like to put in a special request," Cas said.

"Hello to you too," Dean grumbled through the phone.

Cas rolled his eyes as he leaned back in his office chair. Dean always liked pleasantries and politeness. To Cas they were a waste of time. "Hello, Dean."

"That's better," Dean said, happy now that he'd gotten his way. "What do you need a special request for?"

"Darryl Coulter's ex-wife," Cas said, playing with the pen in his right hand. The top had a ridge on it that felt nice on the pad of his thumb.

"Okay, why?" Dean asked, confused. It was extremely rare that Cas put in a special request for something.

"Darryl bargained with me," Cas said, figuring Dean would tease him for that one. "He told me about torturing his cousin when he was little. Something I didn't find when I looked into his history. In exchange, he asked me to check on his daughter."

"But I don't get why you care," Dean said. "You've never done anything like this before."

Cas shrugged even though Dean couldn't see him. "It was fun to shove the sewing needles under his fingernails."

"Fuck," Dean breathed into the phone.

"And he didn't have to tell me about that," Cas said, his cock twitching just remembering how hard Darryl had screamed. "He offered the information without any guarantee I was going to follow through on it."

Dean chuckled. "He amused you. You're doing this because you found him interesting and you figured you might get to play with his ex."

Cas smiled. "It was _really_ fun. He screamed a lot."

Dean snorted. "Okay, so what's the deal he made with you? Is she just a bitch of an ex? You can't just kill some chick for being a bitch."

"Darryl was worried that she was abusing his kid," Cas said, already thinking of the things he was going to do to her. "He said if she wasn't hurting the girl to just leave them alone, but if I found evidence of abuse, he asked me to take her on as my case."

"I assume you already checked into her and she's hurting the kid?" Dean said.

"Yes," Cas said, answering both parts of the question.

"So what happens to the kid?" Dean asked, concerned tone to his voice.

"Darryl said she'll go to live with his mother," Cas said, not really all that interested. "The state will see to it that she's moved. I just need the special request and arrangements made so that the child is moved after I take the mother."

"I'll get started on it right away," Dean said.

"Thank you," Cas said. "And Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"If you get me this case, I'll let you watch," Cas said.

He heard Dean suck in a breath, but hung up before Dean could start gushing at him and making a fool of himself.

Cas had an ulterior motive. He usually did. Okay, he always did. The state paid him to do his job, but it wasn't the paycheck that mattered. It only kept him fed, clothed, and with a roof over his head. It was more money than he could've hoped to make even at a skilled-trade job or management position, and his house wasn't even that big or and couldn't be called luxurious.

For Cas, It was all about letting his dark side out, practicing his skills, and taking pride in his work. The paychecks were convenient because he didn't have to hold down a nine-to-five, leaving him more time to follow people like Krista Gray, Darryl's ex-wife.

He'd discovered something about Krista that excited him. Yes, Darryl had amused him, and that had gotten him far enough to take a closer look at Krista, but going through the hassle of a special request and waiting for permission was worth it for the fun he was going to have. That was why he'd asked Dean for the special request and why he'd offered to let Dean watch in exchange for pushing it through.

It would also be a good opportunity to see just how well Dean could handle watching. If Dean freaked out, maybe he'd stop pestering Cas about being allowed to listen in or watch all the time.

It took about a week to get all the materials in that he needed after his request was approved. They weren't his normal stock, but Cas busied himself with checking up on his own leads. He didn't always wait around for cases from the CON, and the CON encouraged its employees to seek out their own cases as long as there was documentation and everything went through proper channels. The CON was well aware that serial killers could find other serial killers much easier than law enforcement could, and it was faster than waiting around for anonymous tips from concerned citizens.

The last package arrived Thursday morning, and by Thursday night Cas had his kill room set up just the way he wanted it, new items all in their places.

"Tonight," Cas said by way of greeting when Dean greeted him through his earbud.

"Seriously?" Dean said, voice a little shaky with excitement. "You're really gonna let me do this?"

Cas smiled. Dean had been so thrilled that he hadn't even teased Cas about the lack of pleasantries. "I'll be picking her up at ten thirty. She puts the kid to bed around nine, then her husband leaves at nine thirty for his night shift at the bar. That'll give me time to ensure the husband doesn't come back for something and that the kid is fast asleep. I want the social workers to grab the kid _after_ I leave, not before. If they break their way in there before I get to the woman, she'll put up a fuss and there's a good chance she'll do damage or that the officers will go soft and try to just arrest her. I also don't want the fines if the CON decides I was at fault because the kid gets hurt."

"Okay, it's all in place already," Dean said. "The social workers have been waiting on you for three days now. The clean-up crew is easy enough to schedule for around one a.m."

"Listen in like you normally do," Cas said, smirking when Dean's breathing became even heavier, "and as soon as I get her into the SUV and head home, come over to the house."

"I'll be there as soon as I can," Dean said.

"No," Cas drawled. "You'll obey all traffic laws and be there within a reasonable amount of time. Understood?"

"Yeah, yeah, totally, Cas," Dean said, backpedalling quickly.

"Good," Cas said, nodding. "Bring a change of clothing including shoes, socks, underwear, and a towel. Come to the house in a set of clothing that can be bleached or that you don't really care about. Sometimes the clothes don't make it out of the washer and drier intact because of the chemicals I use."

"Gotcha," Dean said. "Anything else?"

"Don't use any deodorant, cologne, or hair products," Cas said as he set his pen down and opened his email program.

"Even the ones you said don't bother you?" Dean asked.

"I don't want anything interfering," Cas said, pulling a face.

"No, that's okay," Dean said immediately. "I was just checking. No scents. Got it."

"Any questions?" Cas said.

"Well," Dean said, then hesitated, "not that I'm complaining, but why are you letting me watch this time?"

"Consider it a reward for pushing her case through," Cas said. "When I found out about her past, I really wanted to play with her. I like to reward people for a job well done."

Dean swallowed. "Okay, I'll see you tonight."

Cas ended the call, a smile on his face. Dean sounded nervous, but he was also excited. Cas wasn't sure how well Dean would handle what he'd be watching, but Cas was feeling good, he was interested in something, and he wanted to share it with Dean.

He tried to ignore the voice that told him Darryl would be looking awful smug right about then if he'd seen Cas ask Dean to share in the fun. He never paid much attention to the voices anyway.

Cas stepped out of his SUV and headed for the house. It was a shitty little house in a shitty little neighborhood. The kid's grandmother lived in a much nicer place. Cas didn't really care, but anyone who gave a fuck would see that the kid was going to have a much better life after tonight.

"I'm going into the back yard now," Cas whispered as he opened the gate, stopping the gate just before the spot where it squeaked. He'd been to the house a few times, inside once, and knew just where he was going, what he was doing.

"Any lights on?" Dean asked through the earbud.

"No," Cas said as he picked the lock on the back door and let himself in.

He crouched down and pet the Doberman waiting for him inside. Dogs liked him, and even though the thing was vicious anytime someone came to the front door, five minutes with Cas rubbing his belly on his first visit had made them good friends.

"C'mon," Cas said, holding a piece of cheese out for the dog. He led Chompers to the basement door, then pointed at the stairs. The dog obediently went down a few steps, then turned around, waiting for his cheese. "Good boy," Cas said, giving him the cheese before patting him on the head and closing the door.

Cas had informed Animal Services that a well-trained guard dog would be in the basement. He also told them what Chompers' favorite treats were and the command for 'stand down.' No one would get hurt as long as they followed Cas' orders, and the dog would go to someone who knew how to handle Dobermans, who could give it a proper home.

The house was quiet except for a late-night infomercial on the television in Krista's bedroom. Cas heard the snoring before he even reached the doorway, but he still took a peek into the room before entering. She was out like a light, sprawled over the bed in nothing but her panties and a tank top. The daughter wasn't in the room.

Cas pulled out a syringe full of something that would keep her out for only about twenty minutes. He didn't want to waste any of the night with her passed out.

Just as he leaned down to cover her mouth and push the needle into her arm, she woke up. Cas was on top of her before she could scream, so the sound was muffled by his hand, but she was still able to get a hand up near his shoulder, and she scratched her nails across his neck.

He ignored the pain, not worried about his skin under her nails, though he would have to remember to include it in his report. She fought hard, but she was no match for a man of Cas' size on top of her, and soon she was closing her eyes, the drug pulling her under.

"You okay?" Dean asked.

"Yes," Cas said. "She's under, but give me five more minutes before you report her as removed from the premises. I don't feel like dealing with the social workers."

"I wouldn't do that to you," Dean said, sad smile most likely tugging at the corners of his lips.

Social workers wanted to help people, and Cleaners were seen as dark and evil because they were the last resort, the ones who came in when there was no hope for counseling or mild adjustments in behavior.

Cas had no doubt social workers could help people, but he also knew there was nothing they could do for some people, and that's where Cleaners came in.

Social workers would never stop, they'd never give up, and in their eyes a Cleaner just hadn't seen the potential in a person, hadn't seen the good in them. Social workers couldn't wrap their heads around the fact that some people just didn't have good in them, that there was no hope other than to stop them from hurting anyone else.

"You on your way?" Cas asked as he started the SUV and pulled away.

"Yeah," Dean said, and Cas could hear him quickly closing down his computer and grabbing his bag.

"If you hurry, I'll take back my offer," Cas said.

"Fuck, Cas, c'mon," Dean whined. "I'm excited to get there!"

Cas chuckled. "Control yourself."

"Yeah, yeah," Dean said, then sighed as he got into his car.

Cas knew Dean would get to his house before he would, and chuckled when he pulled into the driveway, Dean pacing on the front porch.

"It's not funny," Dean grumbled.

"Yeah, it really is," Cas teased.

"Fucker," Dean mumbled as he walked into the garage after Cas.

It was a very deep garage, which was convenient because Cas could pull all the way in, but still have room to open the hatch on the back of his SUV, put the tailgate down, and get a body out.

"What do you want me to do?" Dean asked, standing close enough to Cas that Cas almost ran into him.

"Breathe," Cas said, stopping halfway to the back end of the SUV. He looked Dean in the eye.

Dean took a cleansing breath. "Sorry."

"I can do all of this myself," Cas said, but then softened a bit when he saw Dean's shoulders drop, "but you can open the door for me."

"Okay," Dean said, a little bit of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Cas nodded, then walked to the back of the SUV and hefted Krista onto his left shoulder, his left arm wrapped around her legs, her arms dangling behind him. Dean held the side garage door open for him, then hurried around Cas to open up the door to his kill room.

Once Cas had put Krista down onto the table, he turned to Dean. "Lock the door with the key, then put the key in the top drawer of the cabinet all the way to the right."

Dean did as he was told while Cas stripped Krista. He strapped her down, then looked up at Dean, who was standing by the door again, eyes wide, his fingers playing with the hem of his black T-shirt.

"Did you read all the files I sent you?" Cas asked.

Dean nodded. "Yeah, I read it over a few times."

"So you know what I'm going to be doing to her," Cas said.

Dean nodded again, glancing at the woman on the table. "Yeah."

"If you need to throw up or you start to feel lightheaded, step into the bathroom first," Cas said, pointing toward the open doorway across the room. The bathroom was lit by the same bright lighting throughout the rest of the kill room. " _Do not_ try to go out through the locked door while she's still alive."

"Okay," Dean said.

"And once she's dead, the room has to be cleaned completely before that door is opened again," Cas warned.

Dean frowned a bit in confusion. "Uhm, okay."

"I don't cross-contaminate," Cas said. "My kill room is where I take care of business, but it doesn't leave here unless it's in a bag. So once she's dead, we'll clean everything, then strip down and shower. That's why I've got a drain in the middle of the floor. We'll change into the clean clothes back in my house."

"Oh," Dean said, glancing around the room a bit nervously.

"The neighbors can't see with the high fences I've had built on the property," Cas said, wondering why Dean even cared.

Dean chuckled. "I wasn't worried about that. It's cold outside."

Cas nearly rolled his eyes, but instead he just shook his head. "You won't be in the cold for long."

"Okay, so how do we do this? What do you want me to do? Where do you want me to stand?" Dean asked, babbling a bit.

"Opposite the front door," Cas said, pointing toward the wall. "I'd like you to stand at least four feet away because of what I'll be using on her. I'll be wearing gloves and a plastic apron, but you should be fine over there."

"Over here?" Dean asked as he took his position.

"Yes," Cas said, smiling with approval. "Try to stay quiet. I talk with my victims, let them know why this is happening, but you need to be ready for them to beg, cry, scream, and curse me out. Don't react. None of it bothers me. It's all part of the game. Any more questions?"

"How long does it usually take?" Dean asked.

"Do you have anywhere you need to be?"

Dean shook his head. "No. I was just wondering."

"It takes as long as it takes," Cas said, shrugging. "I never have a set amount of time I plan on. I play it by ear. But I will say tonight is going to be a long night just because of what I get to work with." 

"You're a nerd," Dean teased, grinning at him. "Were you one of those science nerds who walked around with a pocket protector?"

Cas smiled. "I did like science, but I have personal reasons for enjoying this particular medium. It might not be your thing, but it's fascinating to me."

"Cool," Dean said, nodding.

"Any more questions?" Cas asked, not really sure why he was taking so much time to make sure Dean was ready. "Once I wake her with the smelling salts, everything starts, and we don't take a break once we've started."

"I'm good," Dean said, then gestured toward the woman. "Have at it."

Cas turned and opened the third drawer down on his rolling cart, pulling out a small vial. He broke it open and waved it under her nose, Krista waking with a start, eyes wide and body rigid.

"Hello, Krista," Cas said pleasantly, the small smile on his face unnerving people, which made it more fun for Cas.

"Who are you?" Krista said, voice shrill and panicked as her eyes widened even more. She tried to move, then realized she was tied down. "What's going on? Where am I? What's happening?"

"You're here because you've done some terrible things," Cas said, keeping his tone of voice conversational.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," Krista said, still trying to pull herself free with quick jerks of her arms and legs. "Why are you doing this?"

Cas picked up the stack of photos from his rolling cart, holding them up so she could see the picture at the top.

"I didn't do that!" Krista whimpered as she looked at the photo. "I was cleared of any wrongdoing."

Cas smiled. "You weren't cleared by me," he said, then held the photos to the side so he and the woman could both easily see them. "I looked into your history, and even though the nursing home didn't press charges, they _did_ fire you after this incident."

"Yeah, b-because they said the patients were scared of me," Krista said, brows drawing together. "That doesn't mean I did anything wrong. Wait. Wait! A-are you a Cleaner?" she asked, her eyes going impossibly wide, the color draining from her face.

"Yes," Cas said bluntly.

Krista started to cry, tears running down the sides of her face as her whole body shook with the force of her sobs. "I didn't do anything wrong!" she said, her words almost unintelligible.

Cas switched the first picture to the back of the stack, allowing Krista to see the next one. "You weren't responsible for this one either?"

Krista squeezed her eyes shut. "No. I didn't do that. I wasn't even in the retirement home at the time. I was making a delivery to a bed-bound patient in a residential area."

"That's what you claimed, but witness reports didn't corroborate that," Cas said.

"I'm fucking pretty!" Krista yelled, flipping to outrage in the blink of an eye. "I'm pretty and the creepy manager at that place wanted to fuck me. I told him I was married, but he didn't care. When I turned him down, he made up that story about what happened to that old woman just to frame me. But the police looked into it, and the charges were dropped. I left that place and never looked back."

"Do you remember Frank and Donnie, the orderlies?" Cas asked.

"Yeah," she said, trying to nod. "They were really nice to me."

"They said you never made that delivery to the bed-bound patient," Cas said, noting the way Krista's upper lip twitched just a tiny bit. "In fact they said the security footage for that day mysteriously disappeared right around the time one of them saw you coming out of the security office."

"I didn't do it," Krista flipping back to pathetic and trying to gain sympathy with a whimper. "They're lying."

"Why would they lie, though?" Cas asked, screwing his face up in a confused expression just because it was fun to play along with her. "I thought you said they were nice to you. Did you think they liked you so they'd lie for you? Or is it because in exchange for their silence you gave them both blowjobs?"

Krista let out another sob. "That's not true!"

"Let's move on," Cas said, switching to the next photo. "This one happened only two months later."

"That was an orderly's fault!" Krista cried out, more tears streaming down her face.

"Well," Cas drawled, "maybe the orderly was blamed for it and he's now in prison, but it wasn't his fault."

"You weren't there," Krista whispered, but then her voice grew louder as she continued. "You can't know any of this. You think just because you asked around or checked back into my records that you know everything? I didn't do any of this! Don't you think the police would've thrown me in prison if there had been any connection to me?"

"Not necessarily," Cas said, shrugging. "Some witnesses won't talk to police, evidence degrades over time, surveillance tapes get stolen. But send in someone who isn't a cop and knows how to manipulate people and you'll get witnesses to reveal things they wouldn't normally reveal. Evidence that meant nothing to a cop, who doesn't see the world through a criminal's eyes, will suddenly link things together. And surveillance footage is found in the crawlspaces of a criminal's house."

"No!" Krista screamed, her body surging up as she tried to break free from the straps. "They planted it! It's not... oh fuck. You fucking saw me on it, didn't you!?"

"Among other things," Cas said, then switched to the next photo, which was of Krista's little girl.

"Wait, why is she in there?" Krista asked, trying to lift her head. "What did you do to my baby!?"

"I've done nothing to her," Cas said. "The same can't be said for you."

Cas changed the photos, and the next one showing an x-ray with an obvious broken bone. The next photo was of a scalp laceration that had been stitched closed. Then there was a huge bruise on the girl's back that had been due to a 'trip and fall accident.'

"My ex-husband did that," Krista snarled.

"You'd been separated for almost three months before you began taking her to the hospital with 'accidental' injuries," Cas said, changing to a photo of Darryl.

"Yes, him!" Krista said, nearly spitting the words out. "Darryl hurt her. That's why I got full custody of her and made sure he'd never touch her again!"

"Darryl never went to the hospital," Cas said. "He really should've because his autopsy report showed numerous broken ribs and several fractures in his arms that healed without medical attention."

"Autopsy?" Krista asked, confused.

"Yes, Darryl was on my table not too long ago," Cas said. "He had some concerns."

"He... he told you to come after me?" Krista said, anger in her tone of voice. "You're gonna take the word of someone on your table? You're gonna go after someone because a _criminal_ told you to?"

"He merely asked me to check up on your daughter," Cas said, enjoying the anger radiating from the woman. "He was worried about her. He knew he was done for, but he asked that I make sure you were treating her well, and if not, to do something about it. And believe me, I'm thrilled he asked. I haven't had a case like yours in years."

Krista turned her head as much as she could, trying to see the rolling cart to Cas' left. Her eyes widened when she saw the bottles.

"No!" she screamed. It was a wail, long and hard.

Cas saw Dean flinch out of the corner of his eye, but when he glanced Dean's way, Dean didn't seem distressed, perhaps only startled by the woman's reaction.

"No, please!" Krista begged. "Don't do this! I fucked up! I did some horrible things, but I haven't done any of that in a long time! I haven't... I haven't killed anybody in over two years!"

"You have a fetish," Cas said as if he was explaining something to a child, "and even though you haven't killed, you've continued living out your fantasies." Cas held up another picture.

"But... but I didn't kill him!" Krista said, her gaze locking on the worst of the man's injuries. "I played with him. It was consensual."

"It's a fetish," Cas said, shrugging. "Something that turns you on and you don't want to stop."

"I do want to stop! I'll stop!" Krista said.

"Jake was only the first of your play dates I've talked with," Cas said.

Krista closed her eyes and sobbed, the fight leaving her now that Cas had put it all out there. "I need help," she said, trying for sad eyes and a pathetic little pout. "I'm sick. I tried to get help, but I didn't have the money for counseling."

And that's where most authority figures failed and Cleaners excelled. Cas could see it in her. He identified with it. He knew she didn't really give a shit and she was blowing smoke up his ass. He knew because he could do the same exact thing. He could get out of situations by playing on sympathies. He'd done it all his life. 

"We'll start our own counseling session here," Cas said, setting the stack of pictures down on the counter top a few feet away from the table, then turned back to see that she was actually falling for it.

"I really am sorry," Krista said, the mild-mannered soccer mom returning. "I know I shouldn't have done it, and you're right about it being a fetish."

Cas put on a pair of thick gloves and opened one of the bottles sitting on his rolling cart. He could see her body tense up out of the corner of his eye.

"Wait, I thought you were going to help me!" Krista said. "I'm sick!"

"I know you are," Cas said as he poured some of the liquid into a plastic cup. He'd used a plastic tray so he wouldn't damage his steel cart, and he'd also covered the table underneath Krista's body with thick plastic. "And we're going to stop you from ever hurting anyone else. That's the best result one could hope for with counseling."

"No!" Krista screamed, fighting hard once she saw him suck some of the liquid into a plastic pipette. "No! You can't do this! Stop!" 

Cas held the pipette over her right leg and squeezed out ten or so drops onto her skin before setting the pipette back onto the plastic tray. She was screaming, gasping for breath, but he was too busy watching her skin. It was already blistering, the sulfuric acid mixture eating away at it.

Krista's screams died down, and she panted, her body shivering with pain and fear. Cas looked up at Dean, pleased that he hadn't thrown up. In fact, he didn't even seem upset. He was looking directly at the burns, eyes taking in everything.

"How does it feel, Krista?" Cas asked, detached in a clinical way to add insult to her injury. "What you did to all those patients was described as horrific, but I'd like to know from someone who's experienced it. What does it feel like?"

She didn't speak. Tears were running into her hair and her bottom lip was wobbling, drool and blood dribbling down her chin from where she'd bitten her lip.

"Maybe you're not sure yet," Cas said as he picked up the pipette again.

"No!" Krista screamed, thrashing about. "No! It hurts! It really fucking hurts! It's awful and I did this to all those people! I'm sick, and I need help!"

"That's good," Cas said, holding the pipette over her stomach. "Get it all out."

Krista screamed so hard she choked as Cas squeezed, letting the drops out in a circle around her belly button. It wasn't a very clean circle because she was screaming and moving, but it would have to do.

"Are you turned on?" Cas asked her. "Should I check to see if you're wet?"

"No," Krista sobbed.

"Oh, it's not so arousing when it's happening to you?" Cas asked, feigning surprise.

"No," she cried, closing her eyes.

"Maybe you just haven't had enough of it yet," Cas said.

"No! No!" she wailed as Cas held the pipette over her chest and drizzled the acid over her breasts and upper chest.

By the time the acid was gone from the pipette, Krista had gone into shock. She was mumbling. A constant noise that could've been words but was really just her nerves reacting to the trauma. Cas smelled urine and shook his head.

"Hmm, well, I didn't mean _that_ kind of wet," he teased.

Dean snorted, but when Cas looked up at him, he held his hands up and mouthed "sorry."

Cas set the pipette down on the plastic tray and picked up the smelling salts, waving it under her nose.

"No! No! Stop! Please stop!" Krista screamed, the aggression from the smelling salts and the strain from screaming making her voice crack. "I can't take any more! Please stop! I'm sorry I killed them! I did it. I killed them all. It was my fault. I accidentally spilled some battery acid on this little boy when I was a kid, and listening to him scream, seeing what it did to his skin, I got wet. And when I saw those pathetic old patients, close to death anyway, I figured the least I could do is enjoy myself while putting them out of their misery. I got off every time I killed one of them. I'm a fucking monster!"

"Therapy works very well for you, Krista," Cas said, picking up the pipette again.

Cas finished up his work, taking his time playing with the chemicals, grateful that he insisted upon a good ventilation system for the room. By the time Krista finally took her last breath, Cas was relaxed and content, Krista's face unrecognizable and most of her body ruined.

"You okay?" Cas asked Dean, who had pulled himself onto a counter top just to the left of where Cas had told him to stay hours ago.

Dean cleared his throat. "Uhm, yeah," he said, nodding, a smile on his face. "I wasn't sure how I'd handle it, but I think I'm okay."

"Good," Cas said, smiling at Dean. "Go over to the fridge and get yourself a water. Drink half of the bottle."

"Okay," Dean said, brow furrowed at the odd request.

Cas watched Dean out of the corner of his eye while he grabbed a large box of baking soda and dusted what was left of Krista and the plastic on his table for good measure. He also sprinkled some in the plastic cup to neutralize the little that was left over before putting the cap back on the bottle of sulfuric acid.

He took his gloves off as Dean started vomiting on the floor, the water and whatever he had for dinner coming up. He turned to Dean and watched as the man fell to his knees, holding his stomach.

"What the fuck?" Dean said, blinking at the mess on the floor as if he couldn't believe there was vomit on the floor, couldn't believe it was his.

Cas crouched beside Dean, careful to stay just out of reach in case there were any substances on his apron.

"You're in shock," Cas said softly.

"But I thought I was fine," Dean said, frowning.

"I asked you to drink the water to get your stomach started again," Cas said. "I was fairly sure this would happen. It's nothing to worry about, but I thought you'd rather do it in here than in the house where you might soil the carpet."

"I don't feel upset or... grossed out," Dean said, bewildered and looking to Cas as if he would fix everything.

"The first time I killed a human," Cas said, "I spent the night working to clean all the blood up, then after I got back home and fixed myself something to eat, one bite of food was all it took to start my system again. I threw up everything, then continued to dry heave for about two minutes."

"Oh," Dean said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Just because my brain doesn't work like most everyone else's," Cas said, smiling, "that doesn't mean our bodies can't throw us into survival mode."

"That's what that was?" Dean asked.

"Fight or flight," Cas said with a nod. "You experienced a high level of stress, and your body shut down for you to survive it. It'll get better over time. I stopped experiencing a recovery state after my fifth or sixth kill."

"Sorry," Dean said, waving at the mess on the floor and wincing.

"It's okay," Cas said, and he really meant it. "You're gonna help clean up anyway."

Cas stood up and Dean followed. Together they donned gloves, masks, and Dean put on an apron like Cas'. They wrapped the body and put it in a bag, leaving it on the table before starting on the rest of the room.

"Everything?" Dean asked. "Why do we have to clean everything if she wasn't moving around enough to spray anything?"

"I clean everything every time," Cas explained. "I like to keep a clean work environment, and if I miss something one time, it'll get cleaned the next time. I'd rather clean too much than not enough."

"Gotcha," Dean said, nodding.

Finally, all that was left was the floor, so Cas grabbed the pressure hose from inside the bathroom, the reach long enough to do the entire room. He handed the wand to Dean.

"I'm going to dump cleaner on the floor," he said. "Spray everything from the baseboard level down toward the drain."

Dean nodded, concentrating on his task. They worked well together, and Cas felt a little tug in his chest as he wondered what it would be like to have Dean assisting every time. He had always assumed having an assistant would be a pain in the ass. He figured he'd be directing them constantly, tripping over them, and easily becoming annoyed.

But with Dean it was smooth and unhurried. He learned quickly that Cas wanted him to sweep the wand back and forth over the floor instead of quick wiggles of the wand, and working together they got the job done faster than Cas had managed to do it by himself.

"Now we strip," Cas said. "Take everything off, put it in the washing machine, and then we're going to soap down and rinse off with the washer. One more sweep of the room with the wand and we'll be done."

"Okay," Dean said, nodding.

Cas was able to keep Dean from noticing his smirk, but only because Dean was too busy trying to keep his back turned to Cas. But Cas had already seen the erection Dean was sporting. If Dean wasn't so worried about his own erection, he would've noticed Cas'.

"Rinse me off," Cas said after he'd put the clothes in the washing machine, started the cycle, then soaped himself up.

Dean grimaced as he turned to face Cas, and Cas could see the moment the man realized Cas was hard too because he suddenly didn't seem to mind standing up straight and letting Cas see him. They rinsed off, each taking turns, and then Dean rinsed the floor down again.

"All done," Cas said as he put the hose away.

"What about that?" Dean asked, pointing at the body bag on the table.

"The crew doesn't come for another eight hours or so," Cas said. "I usually work up an appetite while I'm out here, so I get something to eat, sleep for a while, then head back out here to put the body bag under the tarp just outside the door."

"Cool," Dean said.

"You hungry?" Cas asked.

Dean nodded. "I'm starving. Don't know if I'll be able to hold anything down, but I'm hungry."

"Let's go," Cas said, unlocking the door and holding it open for Dean. Cas took a good look at Dean's ass as the man walked outside.

Dean hissed. "It's cold!"

"Big baby," Cas teased, locking the door and heading up to his house.

"It's fucking cold!" Dean complained.

Cas held the back door to the house for Dean, chuckling as Dean rubbed at his own arms and shivered in the middle of Cas' kitchen.

Dean pouted. "I don't think I've ever been _this_ cold and _this_ horny at the same time."

"I can think of an activity that fixes both your problems," Cas said, smirking.

"Oh, fuck yes!" Dean said, launching himself at Cas, arms wrapping around Cas as he practically attacked Cas' mouth with his own. "Ow! Ow!" he whined, backing away just enough that they weren't touching, arms up in surrender as Cas squeezed his balls.

"I didn't give you permission to do that," Cas said. He wasn't angry, wasn't even upset. He just wanted to get his message across as clearly as possible.

"Sorry, I thought that was an invitation," Dean said, wincing and standing on his toes.

"It was," Cas said, "but I never asked you to maul me."

"Okay, sorry," Dean said, then gave Cas his most charming smile. "Can you let go now?"

"Do you remember asking me what all of my past partners had in common?" Cas said.

Dean nodded. "Yeah."

"It was a lack of presumptuousness," Cas said. "They flirted with me, but waited for permission to do anything else. I gave it when I was ready."

"Okay, gotcha," Dean said, nodding. "Permission to maul: I didn't have it."

"I've turned down anyone else who has ever been the least bit forward with me," Cas said, voice low.

Dean's expression turned to one of panic for a moment, and not for the sake of his balls. "I'm sorry, Cas. Really. I didn't know. I mean, I know you don't like to be touched unless you've given permission, but I swear I thought that was an invitation. I would never have done that had I known."

Cas eased the pressure on Dean's balls, gently rolling them in his palm. "I know. And that's why you still have your balls."

"Fuck," Dean breathed, a little shiver of fear running through his body. Or maybe it was arousal. Maybe it was both.

"I don't trust easily," Cas said, enjoying the weight of Dean's balls in his hand. "I don't allow myself to appear vulnerable to anyone, and I want you to fully understand that any interaction between the two of us will be on my terms, it will be me calling the shots, and it will be me who decides if and when you get to come."

Dean's cock twitched against Cas' wrist, and Dean grinned at Cas. "Do I have to answer you verbally or was that good enough for you?"

Cas chuckled, then leaned closer to Dean, letting Dean feel like the smaller one even though he was slightly taller. "There will be no hearts and flowers. There will be no cuddling. There will be no pillow talk."

"Whatever you want," Dean said. "You could probably even strap me to your table and I'd thank you for the privilege right about now."

Cas really tried to keep the smile from growing on his face, but he failed. Dean did things to him. Things no one else had done. It was a little scary, but Cas still wanted more.

"I'm going to fuck you," Cas said, nodding like it was a decision he had just made. Which it really was.

"Okay," Dean said.

"After we eat," Cas said, then let go of Dean and turned to the fridge.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Dean said, indignant.

"I'm hungry," Cas said over his shoulder as he grabbed the things he needed for sandwiches from his fridge. "So are you."

"You do this on purpose, don't you," Dean said instead of asked, throwing himself down onto one of the kitchen chairs.

"Do what?" Cas asked.

"Frustrate me," Dean grumbled, running his hands over his face. "You always do it. You seem to enjoy it, but most of the time I can't figure out if you know you're doing it, like you're playing with me or if it's just you, just your personality, and it just fucks with my head."

"It's easy to do," Cas said.

"What?" Dean said, turning to scowl at him.

"Huh?" Cas said, innocence oozing from every part of him.

Dean sighed. "Well, at least you killed my erection."

"No I didn't," Cas sing-songed as he put the sandwiches on plates.

Dean sighed louder. "How do you know!? You aren't even looking at me!"

"Because I know you," Cas said, then turned around and handed Dean a plate before sitting down next to him and taking a bite out of his sandwich.

Dean's face was flushed, but it was most likely from frustration, not embarrassment. Just as he was about to take a bite of his sandwich, Cas wrapped his right hand around Dean's erection and started stroking. Dean gasped, eyelids dropping closed, the sandwich in his hands nearly forgotten.

"What was your favorite part?" Cas asked.

Dean blinked at him. "Huh?"

"About tonight?" Cas said. "What was your favorite part?"

"You want my brain to work right now?" Dean asked, then grunted as Cas squeezed his cock. "Uhm, well, it was watching you. The way you played with her, fucked with her head even more than you fucked with her body. It was like watching someone paint a masterpiece."

"Do you wanna know what my favorite part was?" Cas asked as he ran the pad of his thumb over the tip of Dean's cock.

Dean winced, trying his best to sit still. "What?"

Cas leaned closer. "Watching you realize that you could smell, taste, hear, and feel her dying instead of just seeing it."

Dean's cock twitched in his hand. Cas set his own sandwich down, then took Dean's uneaten sandwich from his almost completely lax hand, setting the sandwich down on the plate.

"I've got no lube in the house," Cas said. "So if you want my cock in your ass tonight, I'll need you to come in my hand."

"Fuck," Dean whimpered, hips jerking forward, his bare ass squeaking across the seat cushion.

"That's all you get," Cas warned. "For your own sake, I hope you make quite a mess."

Dean's jaw dropped open as he panted, hands out at his sides because he wasn't sure if he had permission to touch Cas yet. Cas approved, so he stroked Dean faster, reaching up with his left hand to push his thumb into Dean's mouth. Dean sucked on his thumb, whimpering when Cas pulled away and put the palm of his left hand over the tip of Dean's dick and started rubbing.

"Oh, fuck!" Dean yelped, hands gripping the edges of his seat. "What the fuck are you doing?" he said rather loudly, eyes wide, though he was obviously enjoying it.

"Feels good?" Cas asked.

"Uh-huh," Dean said, nodding.

"You gonna come?" Cas asked, smirking.

"Uh-huh," Dean said, wincing as his body jerked a couple times, and then he was coming on Cas' palm. "Oh, oh, oh," he moaned, leaning forward and very narrowly avoiding Cas' shoulder as his forehead dropped to the table, his body relaxing in pleasure.

Cas stood up, wrapping his right arm around Dean's middle and hauling him over the table. Dean let out a grunt as his chest hit the table, their sandwiches getting smashed between his body and the table.

"Cas!" Dean yelled as Cas pushed two wet fingers into Dean's hole.

He was tight, but Cas didn't give him time to adjust before he was pushing a third finger in, the only lube Dean's own release. And then Cas was pushing his cock into Dean's hole, his right hand between Dean's shoulder blades, holding him down as Dean hissed and grunted, trying to let Cas in. Cas knew he wasn't a virgin. It would be a stretch, but he wouldn't do any damage.

"Ah, fuck," Dean panted, spreading his legs more.

Once Cas bottomed out, he didn't wait. He fucked Dean hard and fast, balls slapping against Dean's ass, the table screeching across the floor and knocking into the wall as Cas grunted and swore, Dean's body clenching around him as Cas squeezed bruises into Dean's left hip. When he came, he thrust so hard that Dean yelped, the cheap plastic clock on the wall above the table jumping off the nail and clattering first to the table, then to the floor.

Cas draped himself over Dean, panting as he tried to regain his balance after coming so hard. It had been a long time since he'd fucked someone, and it felt good.

"Stay there," Cas said, patting Dean's back before pulling out of him and walking to the sink. He grabbed a paper towel, sprinkled it with some water from the faucet, then turned back to Dean.

"Hey!" Dean complained as Cas wiped his crack. "That's fuckin' cold!"

Cas chuckled. "You whine a lot."

"Says the guy who just used ice-cold water from the faucet on my asshole," Dean grumbled.

Cas patted Dean's left ass cheek. "I still want my sandwich."

Dean stood up straight, wincing before turning to glare at Cas. "You're kidding, right? You just got laid for the first time in I dunno how long and all you can think about is your sandwich?"

Cas grinned. "I told you there'd be no cuddling. No hearts or flowers."

Dean rolled his eyes, then carefully sat back down on the chair. He handed Cas his squished sandwich before picking up his own and taking a bite.

"You got a little something," Cas said, pointing at Dean's chest.

Dean looked down and snorted. "That's attractive," he said, swiping his finger thought he mayo on his chest and then sucking it off his finger.

Cas reached out and ran his finger over another splotch of mayo that Dean missed, then pushed his finger into Dean's mouth. Dean grinned once Cas pulled his finger back out.

"So do I get to stay the night?" Dean asked.

"No," Cas said, chuckling as he shook his head.

Dean frowned. "Why not?"

"My bed's too small," Cas said.

Dean huffed. "It's a queen-sized bed!"

"Yeah, just enough room for me," Cas said, shameless.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Asshole."

Cas shrugged. "You already knew that."

Dean leaned back in the chair and shoved the last piece of his sandwich into his mouth. "Yeah, but I thought maybe you'd make an exception for me because I'm adorable," he said with a mouthful of food.

Cas grinned, nodding. "I did. You're not out on my front porch yet with the door locked behind you."

Anyone else would've considered it an insult, but Dean took it for the compliment that it was and smiled. "It's 'cause you _like_ me," he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"It's because you haven't managed to piss me off yet," Cas said.

Dean feigned shock. "I haven't? Huh, guess I'll have to try harder."

Cas couldn't stop the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. "I guess."

Dean grumbled all the way out the door about how Cas was mean for making him change in the cold garage, about how Cas really should let him stay the night, and about how maybe Dean should get paid for helping out.

Cas flipped him off and closed the door, turning off the light before Dean had finished dressing. He could hear Dean's indignant "oh, c'mon!" as he walked toward his bedroom.


	4. Chapter 4

"Small splinters under their fingernails," Dean said, cheerful and perky.

Cas rolled over in bed, and just before he hit the tiny button on his earbud to end the call he said, "No."

The phone rang, but Cas let it go to voicemail. It rang again. And again. The fifth time it went to voicemail, Cas decided he needed to tie Dean to his table. At least long enough to scare the shit out of him. The sixth time Dean called, Cas answered.

"Come over to my house right now," Cas growled.

"So you're gonna listen?" Dean asked, and Cas could tell the man was bouncing on the edge of his seat.

"No, I'm going to test my new knife out on you," Cas said, and just the thought made him feel better.

"Wait, wait, wait! Don't hang up!" Dean blurted. "I swear it's more than just the splinters. I've got a lot stuff I want you to see. I think you'll piece it together. Nobody else can do it, but I think you can."

"It's," Cas hissed as he peeked out from under his blanket to look at the clock, "six o'fuckin' clock. Do you know what that means?"

Dean whined. "I _know_ this is your perfect time to sleep, but they had four Cleaners working this case, and nobody caught him. I'm not trying to get you to go after him just because I think he's your guy. The agency is freaking out, and I just have this gut feeling you can find him."

"I've been looking for him already," Cas said, rubbing a hand over his face. "Remember back when I said I'd take the case?"

"Yeah, but you're not _really_ looking for him," Dean said.

Cas was silent. He could practically hear Dean squirming on the other end of the line. Dean always got nervous when Cas got really quiet. He was a smart man.

"Look, I know you don't really wanna catch the guy who...," Dean said, then paused for a moment, likely rethinking his next words because he knew they'd be too far. "But you said yourself you don't think it's him. So either you're lying to me so that I'll drop it, in which case I gotta tell you I won't, or you really don't think this is your guy. And if it's not your guy, then you could stand to make a lot of money. They've put a bounty out on him on top of the usual salary for a case like this."

"How much?" Cas asked, voice monotone, not giving anything away.

"Quarter of a million," Dean said, desperate. Cas always split the rewards with Dean even though he wasn't required to, and a quarter of a million was definitely an incentive for him. "You're pissed I woke you up, but you've said before that on a time-sensitive case, I should get a hold of you as soon as possible to make sure you don't want it, and the last Cleaner missed check-in at midnight, so the CON is getting antsy."

Cas sighed. "Do you have any more files on him that I haven't seen?"

Dean let out a little squeak of excitement, one that said he knew he'd gotten what he wanted. "Yes. I'm sending them to you right now. I'll come over and we can-"

"No," Cas said.

"But-"

"No."

"Cas!"

"Dean."

Dean let out a ridiculously over-the-top, dramatic sign. "I could help!"

"Do you think that just because you sat by and watched while I took care of one case that you're my apprentice?" Cas asked, because it was probably true.

"No," Dean said, "but we usually work together. I just thought if we were at your house together, researching together, maybe we'd get there even faster."

"I like to research alone," Cas said. "And you're pushing."

"I'll bring food," Dean offered.

Cas hung up on him. Five seconds later he received a text. It was a frowny face. Cas rolled his eyes and put the phone back down on the nightstand.

It was no use. He was awake.

"Fuck you, Darryl," he hissed as he sat up and grabbed his phone again.

_Bring breakfast sandwiches._

He got back five lines of heart and flower emojis.

Cas used his electric razor after pissing and washing his hands. He glanced in the mirror and grimaced. It wasn't unusual for him to miss sleep, but sometimes he looked as if he'd been punched in the face when he didn't get his four hours. Today was one of those days.

He pulled on a pair of light blue sleep pants and padded out to the kitchen, starting the coffee pot. Dean wasn't there yet, so he went into his office and put away two files he'd been working on, dropping them in his 'current' folder.

"Food!" Dean said from the front door.

Cas flopped down into his chair and turned his monitor on, then his desk lamp, rubbing his eyes and not giving a fuck about the fact that it would only make them look worse.

"You want coffee?" Dean asked from the kitchen.

Cas didn't bother answering. If Dean had brought coffee, then he'd want the special shit Dean got him. If Dean hadn't brought coffee, then Dean should've known better and not even bothered asking him about the sludge that was dripping out of his coffee maker.

Dean walked into the office only a couple minutes later, a large bag from the organic shop down the street and two mugs in his hands. He set one of the mugs down in front of Cas, full of milk, then set a wrapped sandwich next to it before dragging one of Cas' overstuffed chairs across the wood floor, the obnoxious scraping noise making Cas' ears ring.

"Dean!" Cas barked.

Dean grinned at him sheepishly. "I wanted to get closer," he said, but stopped moving the chair and sat down sideways on it, kicking his legs up over one arm and leaning back against the other.

Cas opened the files Dean had sent him by email. There was some new information, but for the most part it was just little things that the other Cleaners had discovered. The information was vague, and there was no guarantee it was related to the case Dean and the agency wanted him to investigate.

"What are your impressions?" Cas asked, unwrapping his breakfast sandwich, sniffing the air as the wonderful scent of butter croissants, egg, cheese, and bacon filled the air.

Dean turned to look at him, mouth full of food. "Me?"

"There's some reason why you keep pestering me about this one," Cas said, waving his sandwich in the air. "You had a gut feeling. There must be a reason you won't let go of this."

"I just thought you could solve it," Dean said, shrugging.

"No," Cas said, shaking his head. "You said 'gut feeling.' Don't just brush it off. You're good with research, good with getting into the mind of a criminal, and you've let this one get under your skin. Think about why. Think about when you started feeling that urgency in your stomach. The one that made you bring it up to me in the first place."

Dean took a sip of his coffee. "Well, the first time I read about it, I _did_ want it because I thought it was your guy."

"But?"

"But you seemed sure it wasn't, so I figured you knew what you were talking about," Dean said, then took another bite of his sandwich. "But as I was closing out the files that night, I noticed that the bodies had been found in kind of a pattern."

Cas' stomach clenched so hard he nearly gasped. "What kind of pattern?" he asked, keeping his cool.

"This is gonna sound stupid," Dean said.

"If it's stupid, we'll laugh about it," Cas said, shrugging. "If it's a good lead, don't brush it off."

Dean got up off the chair, setting the sandwich down on the seat, thankfully keeping the paper it came in between the seat and the greasy sandwich or Cas would've had to strangle Dean.

He came up to the desk and leaned over, trying to look at Cas' screen. "Open that file," he said, pointing. A map opened up with dots all over it. "Do you see these right here?"

Cas nodded, but he didn't really see what had Dean so excited. Until he realized that the dates weren't right. The agency usually color coded maps. This one had three of the murders color coded as being more than three years old, but Cas remembered reading that they were newer than that.

"Can you print that page for me?" Dean asked.

Cas did, then set the paper down on the desk. Dean took a pen from the cup on the desk and drew lines, connecting the newest bodies found. Instead of connecting them according to the official date found, he connected them by the overall shape he had seen.

"The newer murders were left at five different points, creating a star," Dean said. "Now look at the older murders."

Cas wanted to stop Dean. He wanted to tear up the map and scream at Dean to leave. He wanted to go back to when Dean had first seen this case and beat Dean over the head with it, telling him never to look at it ever again.

"Two five-point stars in one state," Dean said. "It seems like a ritualistic killer, and from my psychology courses at UC, I'm gonna say this lends itself to someone who practices magic."

"What about this made you think it would be important to me?" Cas asked, really hoping Dean had no clue.

Dean shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, I know it's not your guy, but your guy did perform some rituals. Maybe he rambled on about it while you were there. Or maybe you researched it yourself because you were exposed to it and were curious. But whatever the case may be, nobody else has seen this. Nobody else has put it together."

He didn't know what to say. He couldn't tell Dean to drop it. Dean would know immediately why Cas wanted to forget the whole thing.

"This is going to be a long-term case," Cas finally said. And it was the truth. "Right now we don't have enough to go on. We can't just drive out to his house and pick him up. We don't know who he is, where he is, or even if it's a he."

"I know," Dean said, nodding. "I just thought you'd be able to check it out when you're not on other cases, and the sooner you knew about it, the sooner you'd piece things together, maybe catch a lead while searching for somebody else."

Cas smiled. That was easy. "I'll keep it in my 'current' folder."

"Thanks, Cas," Dean said, then pushed the map toward Cas. "And if you want me to drop this, for any reason, no questions asked, I'll do it," he said, looking Cas in the eye.

He fucking knew. Cas' stomach clenched again. His head was spinning and his eyes felt like they were on fire. Too many details. Dean had too many details, and Cas was feeling too open, too exposed. The killer they were talking about wasn't _him_ , of that Cas was certain, but the details were lining up and painting a picture for Dean.

"Eat your sandwich before it gets cold," Dean said, smiling at him as he picked up his own sandwich again and sat down. "I sent you another case. Let's work on that instead."

Cas took a bite of his sandwich, then opened another email Dean had sent him. He frowned, then looked to Dean. "I don't get to do anything exciting," he complained.

Dean chuckled. "Killing the guy isn't exciting enough?"

"They already know where he is and what he did. The proof is right here," Cas said, gesturing toward the screen. "All he did was give them enough anesthetic that they stopped breathing. This is a euthanization job."

"I thought you trusted me," Dean said, sticking his bottom lip out in a ridiculous pout.

Cas scrolled to the bottom of the email, where Dean usually included some of his personal notes, and read it over. "Where did you find this information?" he asked, smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Dean flashed him a charming smile. "I'm awesome. And I'm kinda hot, if you hadn't noticed. The chick in evidence let me poke around."

Cas felt a rush of jealousy, which surprised him. Jealousy wasn't something Cas usually felt. If ever. "The evidence was the only thing you poked around in?" he asked, bringing up the pictures Dean had taken.

"Eh, she offered," Dean said, cocky. "Quite a few times, actually. A few interesting things. But she's not interesting, just the shit she suggested."

Cas saw immediately why Dean had sent him the files. "Did you request this for me?" he asked, smirking at Dean.

"Well, you seemed to get a huge kick out of what you did with Krista, so yeah," Dean said with a wink.

Cas' cock twitched in his pants as scenarios and images flitted through his head. "It's another chemical I've wanted to work with, but never had the opportunity."

Dean shrugged. "Don't say I never did nothin' for ya. I'll even let you do this one without trying to get in on the deal myself."

"You'll _let_ me?" Cas said, then took a sip of his milk, glaring at Dean over the top of his cup.

"Well, see, I'm so adorable that you can't resist my charms," Dean said with a big smile. "So I'm gonna be the nice guy this time and not beg you until you give in and let me watch."

"You're too kind," Cas said, shaking his head. "Although because of the drugs I'll be using, the kill room won't get that messy."

"So what?" Dean said, frowning. "You'll still clean it like the freak you are."

"Well, when a job isn't messy, I usually have fun on the side," Cas said, keeping it vague on purpose. Just to see Dean's reaction.

"What kind of fun?" Dean asked, sitting up straighter in the chair.

Cas shrugged. "You said you'd let me work this one alone, so you'll have to wait until next time."

"Do I even get a hint?" Dean asked, scooting forward on the chair.

Cas pretended to think about it for a moment. "Well, you know the cases I refuse to take?"

Dean's eyes widened. "You always turn down rape cases."

Cas nodded. "But killing still turns me on, as you found out last time."

Dean spluttered for a moment. "Cas, you can't do that! They're gonna find out!"

Cas snorted. "Do you really think I'm out there doing something so unprofessional as fucking a body when it had nothing to do with their crimes?"

Dean's face screwed up in confusion. "No. But I don't get what you're trying to say."

"I can come just from the screams of a human being," Cas said.

Dean's jaw dropped. "Oh, fuck," he breathed.

"So if I've got a case that isn't messy," Cas said, gesturing toward the computer screen, "then I allow myself to come as they're letting out their last screams."

"You're just teasing me," Dean said, cheeks a little flushed with arousal. "You just want to see me beg."

"If you want to join me," Cas said, "I'd fuck you against the cabinets as Mr. Louter takes his last breaths."

Dean sat there, eyes wide, a tiny squeak coming out of his mouth. "Really?" he asked, voice more of a whisper than anything else.

"If you're interested," Cas said.

Dean nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm interested."

Cas smiled. He wasn't sure what he was doing. He didn't know if he was grooming Dean to work alongside him or if he just felt like having some fun, and Dean was a perfect candidate because he could handle Cas' dark side and they'd had a really good time the other day. Whatever it was, Cas wanted it. He wanted to include Dean. He hadn't wanted anything like that in a long time.

He might be fucking Dean up. He might be ruining his life. He'd already let Dean stand there while he tortured and killed a woman as she begged for her life. Cas didn't have the moral dilemmas most people had, but he lived by a code of his own. He was professional about his job, following everything to the letter, and in his personal life he did what he wanted as long as it didn't hurt anyone else. No guilt. No worry. No agonizing decisions. It was simple, uncomplicated.

Dean was a complication. But as Cas sat there watching Dean shove the last of his breakfast sandwich in his mouth, leaning back as he chugged the last of his coffee, Cas _wanted,_. And even though he might have been breaking his own rule if the whole thing ended up messing with Dean's head, maybe that was okay, maybe some things were worth risking.

"I'll pick him up from his house, same as usual," Cas said. "Meet me here once I leave his house."

"Hell, yeah!" Dean said, grinning. "You want me to bring lube this time so you don't have to wait for me to come first?"

Cas chuckled. "I'll provide everything. My kill room is well-stocked."

"You lied?" Dean said, gasping loudly, pretending to be outraged. "You had lube in your kill room?"

"It's useful with some of my tools, so yes, I have it in my kill room," Cas said, "but I wasn't lying when I said I didn't have any lube in my house."

Dean shook his head. "It's all about the wording with you."

Cas grinned. "Most people don't realize it. At least not until it's used against them."

"I'll let it slide this time, but don't think I'm just going to let you mindfuck me," Dean said, expression sobering.

Cas had another urge, but instead of walking around the desk, throwing Dean over it, and fucking him senseless, he smiled. "If you think you can stop me, go right ahead."

There was a hint of fear in Dean's eyes. It was only there for a split second, then gone. Replaced by a grin. "Maybe I'll mindfuck _you_ ," he teased.

Cas shrugged. "You can try if you want to. It won't go well for you."

Dean forced a smile. It was obvious he was a little out of his depth, but he was trying to hold his own. "So when do we get started on Mr. Louter?"

"I want to personally look into the evidence the police have," Cas said, allowing Dean to change the subject, "but I'm assuming I'll take him within the next four to five days."

"Cool," Dean said, nodding, "and when can I pick you up?"

Cas blinked at him. "For what?"

"You like Italian food, right?" Dean said as he stood up.

"I do," Cas said with a nod.

"Then when can I pick you up and take you out to my favorite Italian restaurant?" Dean asked, that charming smile out in full force.

"Thank you for breakfast," Cas said, balling up the paper his sandwich had come in and tossing it into the trash to the right of his desk.

"Please?" Dean said, putting his hands on the desk and leaning over it toward Cas. "Please? It's a really quiet place. Not a lot of people know about it. And we could go at an odd time so there'd be even less people."

"You're cute, but no," Cas said.

Dean's face lit up. "He said I'm cute! Yes!"

Cas rolled his eyes. "You've overstayed your welcome. Go home," he said, though he was actually amused.

"Fine, I'll leave you alone," Dean said, goofy grin across his face. "I'm gonna go tell all my friends you said I'm cute."

"Yeah, you do that," Cas said, already scrolling through the email again.

"He said I'm cute," Dean said as he walked out of the office. "I'm fucking adorable!"

Cas chuckled once Dean was out of earshot.

"Hello?" Cas answered, a little annoyed because only the agency and Dean had his phone number, but it wasn't Dean.

"Mr. Novak," the man said, "we need to talk."

"How did you get this number?" Cas asked, allowing the irritation to set his tone.

"This is highly classified," the man said. "I need to meet with you and discuss it."

"Dean's clearance is as high as mine," Cas said. "He's my Handler and you may speak with him."

"Mr. Novak," the man said, urgent tone to his voice, "it's about Dean."

"What about him?" Cas asked, interested, but not letting it show in his voice.

The man paused. "I'd rather tell you in person."

"I don't meet with anyone but Dean," Cas said firmly. "If this has anything to do with him, then he can be there too."

"Your next case is Dean Winchester," the man said.

Cas froze. "Excuse me?"

"I'll need to meet with you privately to go over the details," the man said. "I'm assuming you'd like to pick the place we meet?"

"Manchester Park," Cas said without hesitation. "I can be there at 4:30 p.m."

"I'll see you then," the man said. "I'm sure you'll be able to pick me out of the crowd. You're good at what you do. But just in case, I'm about six foot four."

Cas ended the call and finished the rest of his order on Amazon. The government paid for all his supplies, and even offered to send them to his house, but Cas preferred picking out his own things. He knew the plastic he liked to use for bagging up the bodies, and he knew exactly what zip ties were his favorite for incapacitating someone before he tossed them in the back of his SUV.

He also knew who he was going to meet in the park. He hadn't recognized the voice because he'd never met the man, but he knew who it was nonetheless. He was interested to see how much family resemblance there was.

Cas was dressed in blue jeans, a button down blue and white checked shirt, and his Timberland boots. It was casual enough that no one would pick him out of the crowd, yet still presentable enough that Sam wouldn't roll his eyes, wondering what kind of a weirdo the CON had assigned to his brother.

He was right, and Cas was able to pick him out easily. There were mostly women and children at the park, and the few men that were there were wearing track pants and shirts, jogging or biking through the park.

Cas watched Sam for a few minutes. He'd come early so he could make sure he was comfortable with his surroundings, but Sam had come early too. It was a perfect opportunity to size Sam up before meeting him.

Sam had checked his watch three times in the last four and a half minutes at regular intervals, almost as if he had such a good sense of time he really didn't need the watch, it was just a habit or something to do.

He was wearing a gray suit, sticking out like a sore thumb in the park and standing stiff, fidgeting and keeping an eye on his surroundings, shifting from foot to foot. Anyone who looked at him would think he was a cop with the sunglasses and rigid posture, but the suit was too expensive for a cop to afford, and the shoes were too shiny.

Sam shoved his hands into his pockets, his jacket open and the handle of a gun visible, tucked into a holster at his right side. Cas watched Sam pace and figured there was another holster at his right ankle, most likely for a knife, then another weapon tucked into Sam's left breast pocket, which Sam had brushed against in a subtle way just once after he'd checked his watch.

When Sam leaned over to look at something in the grass, Cas also noticed a bulge in the left pocket of his slacks. Cas' guess was a cell phone. Cas walked up to the man while he was distracted by the empty bag on the grass.

"Mr. Winchester," Cas said.

Sam didn't startle, but he straightened and took his sunglasses off, tucking them into his right breast pocket while he held out his right hand. "Mr. Novak," he said with a smile.

Cas didn't extend his hand, just kept looking at Sam, and Sam got the message much more quickly than most people did, shoving his hand back in his pocket.

"Thank you for meeting with me," Sam said. "I'm not officially here, so I'd appreciate it if you kept this between us."

"Why aren't you here officially?" Cas said, keeping all emotion from his voice. "You told me on the phone Dean was my next case."

"Yeah, I lied," Sam said, grimacing. "The agency knows nothing about this."

"Go on," Cas prodded.

Sam sighed, running a hand over his chin as he took a quick look around the park, then met Cas' gaze again. "I'd like you to take him on as a case, see what he's up to, and get him to stop."

"Stop what?" Cas asked.

Sam bit his bottom lip, then shook his head. "He trusts you. He talks about you a lot, otherwise I wouldn't have come to you. I trust Dean when it comes to reading people, so I'm just gonna have to trust you."

"You know I'm a Cleaner," Cas said instead of asked. "If I find out he's doing something illegal, I won't risk my career to hide it."

"I'm not asking you to," Sam said, shaking his head.

"Then what _are_ you asking me to do?" Cas asked.

Sam sighed, looked around the park again, and when he met Cas' eyes once more, Cas could see the pleading, the fear in his eyes.

"I think he's killing," Sam said softly. "I want you to look into it. I can't stop you from doing your job if you find out he's doing anything, but if he is, I wouldn't want anyone else handling him. You know him. He really likes you. I... I don't wanna see Dean get caught up in something he's not ready for."

"What do you have on him?" Cas asked.

Sam reached into his left breast pocket and pulled out an envelope. Cas realized there never was a weapon in that pocket, and Sam had merely touched it because it was important. Cas reached out, but Sam held tight.

"You'll look into it," Sam said. "I know you will because you're a perfectionist and really fucking good at your job. Just...," he said, then paused. "Give him the benefit of the doubt, okay? Please? He's so much like...," a shake of the head and a small smile. "He has mom's eyes. Did you know that?" Sam asked, chuckling, but the look in his eyes said it wasn't funny at all.

"What if I find nothing?" Cas asked.

Sam let out a shaky laugh. "Then I'll stop freaking out every time my brother looks at a case the same way Mom does. That eager anticipation that I've only seen Cleaners use. Handlers don't do that."

Cas sucked at comforting people. There was no motivation for him to do it in the first place, and second he just didn't have the people skills to do it well, and he knew it. With Sam, he didn't know him well enough to even attempt it, though Sam seemed spooked, and Cas was a little concerned that it would make Sam slip up, do something stupid.

"You're a Handler?" Cas asked even though he knew Sam wasn't. The man standing in front of him didn't fit the bill.

Sam nodded. "Uhm, yeah."

"I'm going to allow it this time," Cas said, voice low, "but if you lie to me again, you'll regret it." Sam squirmed, eyes showing a bit of fear before he schooled his expression. "I'm going to be honest with you about Dean, but I expect honesty in return."

"Sorry," Sam said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "I didn't want you to think I was some paper pusher."

"With your family history, I'm going to say you'd never fit the definition of paper pusher even if that _is_ your job," Cas said.

Sam nodded. "Yeah, well, I can see so much of Mom in Dean. And I have no right to ask you this, and it's not a demand, but if he hasn't actually done anything yet, if he's just really fuckin' interested, I could offer to pay you to tutor him. A bonus or salary. Whatever you want."

"I don't take on apprentices," Cas said.

Sam's face fell. "I know," he said softly.

"And it's not about the money," Cas said, shaking his head.

"I know that too," Sam said with a quick nod. "I just don't... I don't know what to do. I can't help him. And as far as I can see, you're the only one who _could_. I'm not trying to pressure you into it, but if there's anything I could do for you, anything at all, just tell me. Consider it done."

Cas thought about it for a moment. "Lock down the Morrison Springs case," Cas said.

Sam frowned. "Huh?"

"Assign it to me, leave it in my hands, no one else, and don't audit me when it doesn't get taken care of anytime soon," Cas said.

Sam bit his lip again. Cas could tell he really wanted to say yes, but Sam was the one person in the Winchester family who would have a hard time with this morally. Finally Sam nodded.

"O-okay," he said. "Just don't tell me why. I can't know. I'll restrict the case to your account alone and nobody else will have access besides you and Dean. I won't ask about it."

"Dean has interests that I'm already indulging him in," Cas admitted, watching carefully as a flash of worry crossed Sam's face. "I never wanted to bother with an apprentice, but Dean's the only Handler I've ever been able to work with."

"So you'll help him?" Sam asked, a bit of hope in his voice.

"I'm not promising anything," Cas said. "I work alone for the most part. I'm not good with interpersonal relationships or teaching. But I'd rather not lose him as my Handler, so I'll look into it. I'll think about it."

Sam's entire body loosened up. It was enough of a change that anyone watching would've noticed "Thank you. Thank you so much," he said, starting to reach out to Cas again, then pulling back when he remembered Cas didn't like to be touched. "Thank you."

"Hold up your end of the bargain," Cas said, a not-so-gentle reminder. "I may like Dean, but don't mistake my actions as anything more than convenience and amusement."

Sam's eyes widened a little. "Okay. I understand. But thank you anyway."

"I'll send a text message to the number you called from if I find something," Cas said. "It'll be vague, but you'll have an answer not long after I have one myself."

"Okay," Sam said, nodding.

"Good evening, Mr. Winchester," Cas said, then turned and walked away.

He didn't know what Sam had in mind, what he thought Cas was going to do, but Cas was already forming a plan in his head. He'd known there was more to Dean's interest than just curiosity. Anyone with a simple interest in death wouldn't have made it through the session with Krista. But if Dean was going off on his own, if he was killing on the side, Cas had to hit it hard.

After all, it would be a huge pain in the ass to find a new Handler, and that was the only reason Cas was concerned.


	5. Chapter 5

Cas wasn't the type to sit around and wait for things to happen. He wasn't the type to string anything along. He was careful about investigating people, but only so they didn't run and he had all the information he needed, not because he was dawdling.

He rented a car with cash, something most places wouldn't go for unless they were handed a cash deposit that was nearly half of the vehicle's worth, which Cas did, stipulating he'd get it back if nothing happened to the car. He didn't want what he was doing tied to his name at all.

Dean didn't have normal days off like someone who worked nine to five, but when Cas was between cases or in the beginning stages of a case, he'd tell Dean to take off for a day or two.

Cas followed Dean all day Sunday, most of the night, and then again for most of the day on Monday. It wasn't until Monday night at around nine in the morning that Cas decided he'd seen enough proof of what Dean had been doing.

His chest burned with anger as he watched Dean walk out of a hardware store, a length of wrapped rope over his right shoulder and duct tape in his left hand.

By themselves they meant nothing, but add them to the list of items Dean had purchased and it was damning evidence. Dean had already picked up some chicken wire from a lumber yard along with three large tarps. Earlier in the day he'd also visited a medical supply store, where he bought two bags of smaller items. That morning he'd purchased four large plastic storage bins from a big chain superstore.

Cas had enough of his equipment in a bag left in the trunk of the car that he didn't bother staking out Dean's house or going back home to get anything. He waited until Dean had taken a shower and was settling in to watch TV before he picked the lock on the back door of the condo.

He quietly crept through the small kitchen, down the hallway, and into the living room. There were three empty bottles of beer on the coffee table, and Dean was snoring loudly, sprawled out on the couch with an arm flung over his face.

Cas pushed the needle into Dean's left thigh, careful to move with him as Dean moaned and shifted in his sleep. After he'd emptied the syringe into Dean, he pocketed the syringe and scooped Dean up onto his shoulder. He left the TV on and locked the back door on the way out.

He figured no one would care if they caught a glimpse of a man carrying another man out of a condo in the area. Dean's neighborhood was an area known for drop-houses and drug deals. Everyone was too scared to call attention to a potential snitch getting whacked.

Cas lowered Dean into the trunk, then headed home. He'd already decided what to do and how to handle it, so he pulled into his driveway and opened the garage door, parking out front with the trunk facing the house. He hefted Dean out of the trunk after wrapping him in a blanket, then made his way through the garage just in case anyone was looking.

He headed straight for his kill room and gently spread Dean out on the table, taking the man's clothes off and strapping him down before he locked the door and began setting up. He positioned the rolling cart on the left side of the table, as per usual, and set his favorite knife out on it along with a bottle of his new favorite chemical, an empty syringe, two large clamps, a hammer, a speculum, and a bone saw.

Once he was finished with the rolling cart, he grabbed a vial of smelling salts and broke it open, swiping it under Dean's nose. Dean gasped awake, eyes wide and body tense. He finally looked to Cas, then froze.

"No," Dean whispered. "No, please. It wasn't what it looked like. Cas, I swear it wasn't. Please!" he said, voice growing louder.

"You haven't killed yet," Cas said instead of asked.

"No," Dean said, trying to shake his head. "I didn't kill anybody. You've gotta believe me. I promise you I didn't."

"But you were going to," Cas said.

Dean let out a noise of distress, breath shaky. "No. This is gonna sound like the biggest load of bullshit you've ever heard, but I wasn't buying all that stuff so I could kill somebody."

Cas picked up his favorite knife and used the tip to poke Dean's left nipple. Not hard enough to bleed, but enough to make Dean gasp.

"Please! Just listen to me!" Dean blurted. "I'm not lying. You know I'm not lying. Just listen. I wasn't going to kill anybody. At least not yet," he said, then winced. "Fuck, that sounded really fuckin' bad."

"I'm listening," Cas said, running the tip of the knife around Dean's nipple, Dean holding himself still so he didn't run the risk of getting himself a cut.

Dean turned his head as much as he could and saw the rolling cart. "Oh, fuck!" he said, his entire body tensing as he gulped for air. "Why do you have all that shit on there! You know I didn't kill anybody!"

Cas shrugged, tapping the flat side of the blade on Dean's freckled chest. "I figured since you hadn't done any of the things you were planning yet, I'd give you the guided tour by way of trying each of these out on you."

Dean whimpered. "Cas, please. Just wait. Lemme explain. Please!"

"You'd better hurry up," Cas said impatiently. "You haven't convinced me yet that I should let you up."

"Okay, okay," Dean said, trying to nod. "It was really stupid of me, but I wanted to show you I could be your partner. Not just your Handler, but like a real partner. I was building a kill room in my garage. I was gonna fix it all up, then take you there and show you that I could do this too. I was trying to warm you up to the idea before I showed you because I figured you wouldn't like it if I just did it like it was a whim or something. Otherwise I would've told you what I was doing."

"You gained the attention of someone you really didn't want checking up on you," Cas said.

"What do you mean?" Dean said, gasping as Cas poked his right nipple with the tip of the knife.

"I was assigned your case," Cas said, watching Dean's face carefully for his reaction.

Dean panicked for a moment, eyes darting back and forth as he tried to think who could've seen him. "But I didn't do anything. Why were you given my case if I haven't done anything?"

"One of the first things you learn when you're in my line of work," Cas said as he ran the dull side of the knife over Dean's chest and stomach, "is how to feign ambivalence and apathy. A crime scene or case may excite me, but normal people don't like that. It disturbs them. It's not normal to look at crime scene photos and long to have been the one who murdered the victim."

Dean frowned, eyes moving up and to the left as he tried to think about the clues Cas was giving him. Finally he closed his eyes, sighing. "Sam."

"You're a smart guy," Cas said, nodding, "but so is your brother. He grew up watching a Cleaner and a Handler, was raised by them, and big brother slips up and starts looking more like Mommy than Daddy, he gets scared."

"Fuck," Dean breathed. "Cas, I swear I wasn't going to do anything without you. I was only putting together the kill room so I could try and convince you to take me on as an apprentice, then maybe one day a partner. Please believe me. I get audited all the time. I'm not gonna fuck up my career and my working relationship with you because I want to kill. Even if you would've seen all my hard work and said no, I would've kept trying to convince you, but I wouldn't have killed without you."

Cas tapped the flat of his blade on Dean's cock, getting a kick out of the way Dean was trying to look down, trying to see what Cas was doing to such a sensitive area. "I don't like being lied to, Dean."

"I'm not lying," Dean said, squirming on the table. "I'm telling you the truth."

Cas leaned down, his face inches from Dean's. "One last chance," he said. "If you don't tell me the rest of it, I'm going to start with the speculum, push it up your ass, and then I'm going to try out each of the items I've got left on my cart, finishing up with my knife."

Dean glanced at the cart again, his bottom lip quivering. "Please don't. I don't know what you want from me, Cas. I didn't kill anybody. I'm not lying about anything. Please!"

"Calm down," Cas said, setting the knife down on the table and running his right hand over Dean's left flank. "Tell me the rest of it or I start playing with you. I haven't used the speculum in a long time, and I'd like to know what happens when I use it to open you up, then slowly drop in the sulfuric acid I bought for Krista."

Dean's eyes welled up with tears. "Fuck," he whimpered, tears running down the sides of his face and into his hair. "I don't know what you want. I don't... I can't think. I'm fuckin' scared! Cas, please! I don't know what you want me to say. I'm... I think I'm being honest. I can't think of anything I'm hiding from you. I'm not hiding anything!"

Cas could see the sincerity. He knew Dean was just too scared to think of it. "I'll give you a hint. I saw them on your coffee table."

Dean panted for a moment, then his eyes widened as he figured it out. "Oh, fuck, yes," Dean said, body deflating with relief. "Okay, yeah. I'll tell you about that. I wasn't trying to hide anything," he said, shaking his head as he looked Cas in the eye. "I didn't even think of it. I'm sorry. I took out three cases and I was working on them. I wasn't going to do anything to them, I just wanted to run my own investigation, then use it to show you how ready I was. I was only going to look into them, maybe stake out their houses, but I was never gonna get close to them, never gonna take them to my garage."

"Good boy," Cas said, his right hand sliding down over Dean's stomach, then wrapping around Dean's cock.

Dean gasped, eyes wide. "I told you the truth!" he cried out, panicking.

"Shush," Cas said as he started stroking Dean's cock. The poor guy was so terrified Cas wasn't really able to do much with it, completely limp, but he tugged at it nonetheless. "I said you were a good boy. You told me everything, and I believe you."

Dean's bottom lip quivered again, and more tears fell from his eyes, but this time it was relief, not fear making him cry. "You're not gonna hurt me?" he asked, cautiously optimistic.

Cas chuckled. "Oh, I'll probably hurt you," he said, "but you didn't seem to mind it rough."

Dean let out a noise somewhere between a sob and a laugh, then choked on his own snot and tears.

"If you want me to do this for you," Cas said, "then you're going to do it my way."

"Anything you want," Dean said, trying to nod.

"You're going to dismantle your kill room and get rid of everything you bought in separate dumpsters around the city," Cas said, rubbing his thumb over the tip of Dean's dick.

"As soon as you let me go, I'll get rid of it all," Dean promised.

"You're going to follow directions without fighting me on every little thing," Cas said.

"I can still tease, right?" Dean asked with a grin.

Cas squeezed his cock. "Carefully."

Dean winced, but then chuckled when Cas started stroking again. "Yeah, I figured."

"You're going to continue your work at the agency like nothing is out of the ordinary," Cas said, "and when the time is right, if I think you're good at what you do, that you've learned enough and can make a career out of this, then you're going to register."

"Yes," Dean said, nodding. "I never even considered doing anything else."

"And you're going to grovel at your brother's feet," Cas said, grinning, "begging him to forgive you for scaring the shit out of him. You're going to convince him that I've got you on a tight leash. You're going to reassure him to the point where he has no doubt you're going to do this right."

"All of that," Dean said. "I'll do it all."

Cas climbed up on the table, straddling Dean and rubbing his jeans-clad crotch over Dean's exposed cock. Dean hissed, the stimulation most likely painful.

"And if you're a very good boy," Cas said, rubbing his nose over Dean's shoulder, "then I'll let you stay the night sometimes."

"I'm gonna be the teacher's pet," Dean said, chuckling. "Is there any way I can repay you for taking me on Mr. Novak?" he asked, trying to push himself up against Cas.

Cas pulled back and looked him in the eye. "The sex isn't payment," he said firmly.

Dean's eyes widened as his playful demeanor bled away. "Sorry. No. I didn't mean it like that. I know it isn't."

"It's a nice bonus though, huh?" Cas said, grinning.

Dean let out a relieved laugh. "Fuck, yeah!"

Cas could feel Dean's cock getting harder beneath him. "But you've been a bad boy," he said, "so the bonus will have to wait until you've been good."

Dean groaned as Cas climbed off the table, about to let loose with pleading and begging until he saw what Cas had picked up off the rolling cart. "Hey, wait!" he said, squirming again. "No! Wait!"

Cas chuckled as he pushed Dean's cock into the cock cage and buckled him in. His cock was only partially hard due to the sheer amount of fear. "I've got the key. I'll let you out when you've been a good boy."

Dean let out a long, dramatic, moaning whimper. "What do I have to do? How can I be a good boy and get out of this?"

Cas started unbuckling the straps holding Dean down, starting with his ankles. "Go home. Get a good night's rest. Bring me breakfast no earlier than ten tomorrow morning. I'll unlock the cage then."

"But now I'm gonna go home all horny and it's gonna hurt," Dean whined.

Cas helped him sit up. "If it starts to pinch, call me, but don't purposely arouse yourself just so I'll let you out of it, because it's not coming off until morning. Calling will result in me throwing you into a cold shower to help you get rid of your erection so you don't damage yourself."

"I'm supposed to sleep like this?" Dean asked as he stood there pointing at the cage, more concerned about the fact that there was a cage on his cock than the narrow miss he'd just had, nearly being killed by a Cleaner.

"Yes," Cas said, putting his knife on the cart. "Now get dressed."

Dean did as he was told while Cas cleaned his rolling tray off, putting everything away. "How do I get home? You kidnapped me."

Cas handed him the keys to the rental car. "Take these. I'll call the rental company tomorrow morning and tell them to pick it up. Leave the keys under the front seat and lock the doors when you get home."

"You rented a car to stalk me?" Dean said, smirking and totally full of himself.

"The cock cage can come off tomorrow _night_ instead," Cas threatened.

Dean headed straight to the drawer that held the kill room door key, then opened the door for himself. He turned around and tossed the key onto the table.

"I'm so irresistible," Dean said under his breath, "that the CON's favorite employee rented a car to stalk me."

By the time Cas turned around to tell Dean it would be a week before he took the cock cage off, Dean was gone, the door slamming closed. Cas sighed, frustrated, but then he rolled his eyes, walking up to the doorway and grabbing the boxer briefs Dean had left behind, dropping on his way out.

Cas knew he'd done it on purpose. Dean hadn't bothered putting them on when he dressed, so there was no question as to what Dean's intentions had been. Cas held them up to his nose and sniffed, already hard from the interactions with Dean, seeing him on his table. Dean's present left him aching.

He locked up and made his way inside his house, taking a peek out the front window to make sure Dean was gone before heading upstairs and stripping. He tossed himself down onto his bed, Dean's underwear over his face as he jerked off. He spread his legs wide while on his back, feet planted on the bed, hips lifting off the bed as he fucked his fist, the fingers of his free hand pinching his left nipple, jeans and boxer briefs shoved down just enough that he could do what he needed.

The scent of Dean was strong after having been terrified, and Cas breathed deeply, remembering the tears Dean had shed and the way his breath hitched, his body had trembled, and his cock and balls had tried to retract all the way up into his body due to the cold and fear.

"Oh, fuck," Cas hissed, straining as he came all over his chest and stomach, toes curling and teeth clenched.

He practically melted into the bed, his legs falling apart, his orgasm sapping him of his energy and making him very lethargic. He used Dean's underwear to clean himself up, then tossed them onto the floor.

Cas squirmed and flopped around until he got himself under the blankets and comfortable, falling asleep quickly, sated and practically melting into the bed.

Cas woke earlier than usual and slid out of bed, running a hand through his hair as he walked into the bathroom and pissed. After washing his hands and buttoning up the jeans he'd worn to bed, he grabbed his phone and found Sam's number. It was only four thirty in the morning, but Cas didn't care if it woke Sam up or pissed him off.

_Hadn't done anything. Yet. Mine now._

He got a reply in under thirty seconds, telling him that Sam was either awake or sleeping with the phone strapped to his hand in anticipation of any word from Cas.

_Sam: Thank you. Assignment was already approved. Paperwork should be there later today. It's all locked down. Thank you. Really!_

He knew Dean would get an earful from Sam about the whole thing, and it made him smirk as he headed to the kitchen. He had time to kill before Dean came over, so he took a Nutty Buddy from the freezer and went to his office, sitting behind his desk and unwrapping his cone.

Dean hadn't emailed him, but Sam had. He'd sent Cas everything related to the Morrison Springs case along with a scan of the form he'd filled out, assigning Cas to the case, a check mark in the box for Restricted Access, giving Cas sole ownership of the case. Dean wouldn't even be able to see it.

Cas opened the second email Dean had sent the day before and looked through the information. Just as he was about to start a search, his phone dinged with a text message.

_Dean: it hurts :(_

Cas chuckled, then texted Dean back. _Poor baby._

_Dean: can I come over early? pleeease?_

Cas almost said yes, but then he decided to tease Dean a little. _They don't start making the breakfast sandwiches until six._

_Dean: PLEEEASE!!! it hurts and i can't stop thinking about what you're going to do to me and i'm getting harder_

Cas frowned. He hadn't meant for Dean to wait until he was in a lot of pain. That's why he'd told Dean to let him know if it pinched or was uncomfortable. _Get an ice pack and put it in your lap on the way over here._

_Dean: THANK YOU! :D_

Cas busied himself with some research while he waited for Dean, and two minutes later Dean was announcing himself with a loud "It's me." Either Dean had driven one hundred and fifty miles per hour over to his house or Dean had already been on his way.

"Where's the ice pack?" Cas asked as Dean walked into the office.

"I was already two blocks away when you finally said I could come," Dean said, the expression on his face screaming 'I know I fucked up but I'm being honest.'

"You could've gone back to your house and picked up the ice pack. I never would've known you'd disobeyed me," Cas said, not so much scolding as stating a fact.

"I knew the cock cage shouldn't hurt," Dean said, sincerity in his tone of voice, "and I fell asleep for a while, then woke up after a particularly awesome dream about you, hard enough that it was more than just a little painful. So even though I could've gone back home to get the ice pack, I decided to take my chances, tell you the truth, and accept whatever consequences disobeying you earned me. Your first order was that I shouldn't let it hurt."

Cas was impressed, and a little intrigued by the way Dean was presenting himself. He decided to test just how ready Dean was for something a little different in their relationship. Another part of Cas' personality that Dean knew little and could possibly be something they could enjoy together. He'd suspected Dean would fall into it perfectly before, but this only reassured Cas of that suspicion.

"Does your own physical pain make you harder?" Cas asked, already fairly certain of the answer.

"To a certain point," Dean said.

Cas picked up the key he'd left on the desk and walked up to Dean, crouching in front of him and opening up first the button and then lowering the zipper on the jeans. He unlocked the cock cage and gently pulled it off, then stood up.

"Go stand in the corner," Cas said.

Dean's eyes flashed with something that might've been anger, might've been rebellion before his lips thinned and he nodded, turning around and heading for the corner by the door.

Cas sat back down at his desk, dropping the key and cock cage into the second drawer down on is left side, then resumed his research, noting that the time was quarter after five. He didn't want to leave Dean in the corner too long, and Cas tended to lose track of time when he was researching. He would get so focused that time would seem to stand still, and sometimes it would be hours later than he'd meant to stop.

"Can I talk while I'm in the corner?" Dean asked, and there wasn't a hint of attitude in the question.

"No," Cas said.

"Can I jerk off while I'm in the corner?" Dean asked, and yes, that time Cas could hear the smile in the way Dean formed his words.

Cas didn't reply. He'd already told Dean he didn't have permission to speak. He smiled when Dean let out a whine, squirming as he stood in the corner. Obviously Dean's erection wasn't going away.

"I'm going to give you a choice," Cas said. "You can either stay in the corner for the next twenty minutes without touching yourself, keeping your mouth shut, or you can come over here and tell me a secret about yourself that you're sure I don't know."

"Can I talk yet?" Dean asked.

"Yes," Cas said.

"What if you already know the secret?" Dean asked. "I know you've looked into my background, talked to people, and you're also a really fuckin' good judge of character, so I know there's things you probably figured out that nobody told you and you didn't find in any of my files."

"It's all in the wording," Cas said.

Dean was quiet for a moment as he reviewed the conversation in his head, then chuckled. "Oh, you said to tell you a secret about myself that _I_ was sure you didn't know. Doesn't necessarily mean you don't know it."

"Correct," Cas said.

"Okay, I think I've got one," Dean said. "Do you want me to come over there and tell you?"

"Yes, unless you'd rather tell me the secret with your back to me," Cas said, forcing the smirk off his face.

Dean turned and walked to the desk, cock hard and bouncing in front of him. He stood in front of the desk, cheeks a little flushed. "I left my underwear here last night as kind of a gift, but also kind of a payback because I stole a pair of your underwear two weeks ago when you were in the shower."

Cas chuckled. He did laundry every three weeks, and really he should've been doing it already that morning.

"So did you know that one?" Dean asked.

"No," Cas said, shaking his head. "I would've figured it out when I did my laundry." 

"Oh, dude," Dean said, body deflating as the relief washed over his face. "I was so fuckin' worried you knew I'd done it and you were pissed at me for it."

"If I'm upset with you over something, I'm not going to sit on it," Cas said.

"Really?" Dean asked. "I mean I know you've always been up front with me about shit, but that was mostly for work."

"I don't sit on things, I don't have tact, and I don't like to draw things out," Cas said, shrugging. "So if I'm upset with you, you're going to know it."

Dean smiled. "Cool. It gets tiring dealing with people who bullshit or try to save your feelings. Even if it hurts, I'd rather people just give it to me straight."

Cas chuckled. "You may change your mind on that."

"I doubt it," Dean said, looking down at the top of Cas' desk. "I've been your Handler for over five years now, and in that time you've smacked me in the face with plenty of blunt truths. Have I ever backed down?" he asked, looking up at Cas.

Cas shook his head. "No. It's part of what I like about you. It's attractive as a personality trait and very useful as a Handler."

"So do I get a secret out of you now?" Dean asked, flashing his charming smile.

Unfortunately for Dean, charms didn't work on Cas, though he did enjoy indulging people from time to time. "Horror movies are my favorite, especially the cheesy ones from the 80s."

Dean blinked at him for a moment, then smiled. "I saw the little guy on your shelf. Is that from The Thing?"

Cas glanced at the action figure, which didn't stand out that much amongst all of his books on the shelving units, but Dean was very observant. "Yes. It's Norris."

Dean nodded. "I had a feeling you liked horror movies because of that," he said as he gestured to the creature, then he looked to Cas with what could only be described as a fond expression on his face. "I think that's the first personal thing you've ever told me that didn't involve work or a food request."

Cas pushed his mouse away. "Well, I thought I'd let you know because, while your offer to take me out to dinner was very brave of you, I'd rather order pizza and watch a movie with you at home."

The smile dropped from Dean's face, but it wasn't because he was upset. He was shocked. "Really? Like... I mean... You're not just messing with me?"

Cas knew why Dean was so shocked, and why he was questioning it. Cas had never offered anything like that before. He kept things professional, keeping people at a distance. He allowed Dean closer than most people, but still kept that safe distance. Anyone watching the conversation wouldn't have realized it was a date that Cas was putting on the table, but Dean was smart enough and knew Cas well enough that he understood it.

"Unless you don't want to," Cas said, teasing Dean.

"No!" Dean said, then winced. "I mean yes! I _do_ want to. I just... Yeah! I wanna stuff myself with pizza and watch a movie with you," he said, smiling.

"I'll pick the movie, you order the pizza, and you answer the door to pay the guy when he gets here," Cas said. He didn't usually order in. Unless Dean brought him food from a restaurant, Cas was happy just making food himself. He didn't really like going grocery shopping, but it was better than dealing with someone coming to his house every time he was hungry.

"Deal," Dean said, nodding.

"I told you I'd fix the problem you had," Cas said, pointedly glancing down at Dean's mostly soft cock.

Dean's cheeks flushed. "Yeah, you did. Um, thanks?"

Cas chuckled. "You're welcome. Now put yourself away and grab the folding chair. You're going to help me with my research," he said, pointing at the metal folding chair he kept in the corner of the room. Nobody had ever used it before, but it was better than letting Dean scrape one of the overstuffed chairs across his hardwood flooring just to sit his naked ass down on it.

Dean smirked as he zipped up.


	6. Chapter 6

It turned out that Louter was more difficult to find than Cas had originally thought he'd be. It was obvious why four other Cleaners had missed it, and Cas knew it was simply past experience that helped him.

Only two murders into his second round of the year, Cas pinpointed exactly where Louter would be for the third kill and followed him back to the warehouse he was using. Cas hadn't been able to find anything in Louter's home, but the warehouse was decked out and sufficient to take Louter through any kind of disaster that happened and every damn bit as good as a fallout shelter except it was above ground.

Dean had already sent out an order for the crew to clean up the body Louter had dumped, and with all the evidence and supplies available, Cas didn't need anything else.

Louter wasn't into weapons, and the warehouse was in a mostly empty part of the state. Nothing but dirt and previously-burned brush and trees surrounding it for miles. Cas gave Dean a few last instructions before the two of them walked into the building.

Dean stayed close and Cas kept an eye on Dean while still looking out for Louter. They walked down a long hallway with no doors, then into a larger area with offices and long-ago abandoned desks, chairs, and computer equipment. It smelled like old, wet paper, heavy in a way that felt oppressive. All the windows were boarded up, and the only light inside came from overhead office lighting that had mostly burned out.

Down one more hallway and there was a steel door that led to the area Louter stayed in, probably a vault from the earlier occupants that worked perfectly for Louter's plans. Cas nodded to Dean, then went through the door.

It smelled of sweat and grease and old food. The lighting was dim, and more than once Cas had to sidestep old monitors and keyboards.

They rounded a corner and found the cages Cas had seen the last time he was there, staking out the place. He started to walk by them, but heard something shift.

"Help me!" a woman screamed, throwing herself against the bars and trying to grab Cas. Her eyes were wild, hair matted and hanging in her face. Her shirt was torn and there were stains all over it. Dressed in just her panties and the torn shirt, she had to be cold. 

"Be quiet," Cas hissed, crouching down and grabbing a chunk of her dirty hair, yanking hard enough that her forehead hit the bar. Suddenly she was just as terrified of Cas as she was of Louter, so she closed her mouth as tears ran down her face. "Keep your fucking mouth shut," he nearly growled.

He let go of her hair and nodded his approval as she scurried back to the corner of her cage, shivering and not about to make any more noise. Cas stood up straight and cautiously moved down the hallway, keeping an eye out for Louter, sure that the man had heard the woman's screams. He didn't pay attention to Dean, but could hear him quietly following.

As they rounded another corner, Louter came at them, lead pipe in his hand as he charged. Cas lunged forward, grabbing for Louter's right wrist, and as the man swung for him, Cas used the momentum to send him crashing into the wall, and before Dean could do any damage to the man, Cas shoved the needle into Louter's back and emptied the syringe into him.

Louter struggled against him, but soon his body went limp. Dean crouched next to him, ready to do whatever Cas asked of him.

"Call in the girl," Cas said as he propped Louter up against the wall. "Tell them she's almost feral due to trauma."

Dean nodded and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, heading for the front of the building. Cas hefted Louter over his shoulder and followed Dean.

The woman cowered as they walked by her, and Cas saw Dean's eyes lingering on her, as if he wanted to set her free even though he was already telling the CON that she needed to be picked up.

Once Cas had put Louter in the back of the SUV, he got in behind the wheel and started driving home. Dean was quiet, and Cas knew exactly what was wrong. He let Dean stew for a while, then decided it was time to give Dean a dose of reality.

"Tell me what's wrong," Cas said.

"Nothing's wrong," Dean said, voice low.

"You're lying to me," Cas said, dismissing the urge he had to bring his fist down on Dean's leg just to make Dean stop skirting around the issue. "Tell me what's wrong."

"You didn't have to hurt her," Dean said, turning to scowl at Cas.

"Do you know what trauma does to a person?" Cas asked.

"Of course I know what it does," Dean said, huffing. "It fucks them up. She was terrified of Louter and you smashed her face into the bars. She was just scared. She wanted to get out of there, and she thought we were going to save her."

"Trauma causes a person to act stupid," Cas said, ignoring the way Dean's body tensed when he said it. "She was scared, not thinking straight, and she wouldn't have listened to me if I would've nicely told her to keep quiet and stay at the back of the cage."

"But you didn't have to-"

"Yes, I did," Cas said firmly. "I'm not here to save people. I'm here to exterminate the bad guy. That's the reason the CON works. Letting her out or being kind to her would've gotten her killed. She could've gotten both of us killed too."

"You could've just told her to be quiet," Dean said, still fighting for his cause even though he didn't have as much venom in his voice.

"Did you see the look in her eyes?" Cas asked. "You've never seen a feral human being, but what you saw back there was your first dose of it. She'd been terrorized by Louter to the point where she was running on instinct, and the only thing she would've responded to was more fear. I had to make her scared of me to keep her alive. Telling her to be quiet _would not_ have worked."

"How do you know?" Dean asked, voice a little softer, as if he didn't want to believe Cas, but he was starting to.

"You've called it in for me many times," Cas said, surprising himself with the patience he was showing Dean. "I find victims alive and I don't stop to help. I continue on and you send in the crew afterward to pick them up. Did you think everyone I've encountered so far has kept quiet when they saw me?"

Dean opened his mouth, then closed it, sitting back in the seat a little. He shook his head, sighing. "I don't know what I thought."

"Sometimes you have to save people from themselves by fucking them up even more," Cas said bluntly. "You may think what I did was heartless or cruel, but in situations like these, I'm the type of person that gets the job done because I didn't stop to comfort her or let her out. If I'd done that, she be dead right now."

Dean looked out the window, quiet for a few minutes. "I guess I never thought of the victims. I always think of them as already dead, that we're hunting down the bad guy and saving people the bad guys would've killed in the future. Even the times I've called it in when you told me there were live victims, I guess I just didn't really think about them. Never saw them. Never had to deal with them."

"That's why there's Cleaners and there's Handlers," Cas said, not trying to dash Dean's hopes, but rather telling it like it was. "You may be okay with the blood and the gore, catching the bad guys, even making them pay for what they did, but what you're feeling right now is something I wasn't built with, and it's what separates me from the police, the FBI, and any other agencies out there besides the CON."

"You're saying I can't do this," Dean said softly.

"I'm saying you should think about it," Cas said, seeing Dean duck his head just a bit at the disappointment. "You care about people, and if your motives for doing this are to get revenge or save people, this job is either going to kill your humanity or your humanity is going to get you and others killed."

Dean scooted down in the seat a little, spreading his legs, relaxing. "When I first got assigned to you, they warned me you were tactless. So did you. You weren't kidding."

Cas shook his head. "No, but you're the kind of guy who sometimes needs a two-by-four upside the head."

Dean huffed out a laugh. "You sayin' I'm thickheaded?"

"Stubborn, yes," Cas said. "Not stupid."

Dean shook his head, and Cas saw a smile out of the corner of his eye. "Sweet talker."

"I only hurt them enough to scare them," Cas said, because he knew Dean needed to hear it. "I don't have a desire to hurt innocent people. I never have. Even as a kid I saw the darkness in someone or something's eyes and I was drawn in by it. I wanted to snuff it out. It's not revenge, and you know the money is only a bonus. I want to snuff out darkness even though it's in me too."

Dean was quiet again for a while before he turned to Cas and said, "Wait, 'some _thing_ 's eyes'? Did you just tell me something that isn't in your file?"

Cas could hear the guarded excitement in Dean's voice. "You've never looked an animal in the eyes and seen darkness?" Cas asked, smirking.

Dean chuckled. "You just told me that to cheer me up."

Cas shook his head. "I'd never do such a thing."

Dean grinned, then stage-whispered, "He likes me! He really likes me!"

Cas rolled his eyes and kept driving. It was another twenty minutes before they pulled into Cas' driveway, and Cas let Dean help him get Louter out of the back of the SUV and into the kill room. Cas set Louter on the table, his tools already set out on the cart.

"Where do you want me?" Dean asked.

"After you lock the door and put away the key, I want you to stand where you did last time," Cas said. "I might let you get closer after Louter and I have had a chance to talk, but for right now I want you at a safe distance and not interfering."

"Yes, sir," Dean said as he dropped the key into the drawer and took his position.

Cas rolled his cart closer, then grabbed the straps down at Louter's feet, but as he put the strap across Louter's ankles, Louter woke up and kicked Cas in the face, sending him backward and into the drawers behind him.

Louter screamed his rage as he rolled off the table and pounced on Cas, punching him in the gut just as Cas wrapped his legs around Louter's legs. Cas twisted, throwing Louter off him and scrambling up, reaching for the steel bar taped under the stainless steel table.

"No! Stay back!" Cas yelled as he saw Dean come around the corner of the table.

Louter saw Dean and lunged for him, but Dean was faster and jumped back, the table standing between Dean and Louter. Cas brought the steel bar down on Louter's neck, taking advantage of the distraction, and Louter howled in pain, kicking Cas in the chest before falling down himself, holding his neck.

Cas' chest burned, and it was hard to breathe, but he had to subdue Louter. The blow to Louter's neck had been placed carefully, just like Louter had done to some of his victims, but if he wasn't careful, Cas would cause an injury that couldn't be dismissed as repaying a criminal for his deeds.

As Cas climbed on top of him, Louter got another punch in just below Cas' ribs on his left side. Another blow to Louter's neck with the bar missed, and Louter rolled them, getting on top of Cas.

The man was bigger than him, but he was clumsy, his movements slower than Cas', and Cas knew if he just kept Louter from killing him for another few minutes, Louter would tire out and Cas could get through this without leaving illegal injuries on Louter.

"Ha-ugh!" Louter coughed, eyes going wide as his body stiffened.

Cas had only a split second to wonder if the man was having a heart attack before he went boneless on Cas, his body going limp as the warmth of piss spread over Cas' crotch and hips, making him shiver.

The body was rolled off him and Dean stood over Cas, holding Cas' favorite knife, blood dripping from the tip.

"Are you okay?" Dean asked, eyes wide as he reached down to help Cas up.

Cas slapped his hand away. "What did you do?!"

Dean frowned at him. "What did I do? I saved your fucking life!"

Cas pulled himself up, ignoring the pain in his chest, side, and arms. "You killed him!" he said, pointing at the body. "You killed him with a knife! Louter has never killed anyone with a knife!"

Dean snorted, incredulous. "You're pissed because you have to write a special report?!"

"No, I'm pissed because I told you to stay away and you interfered," Cas said, slapping the knife out of Dean's hand. It clattered across the floor.

"I saved your life!" Dean yelled.

"No," Cas said, shaking his head, "I had it under control, like all the other times someone has gotten loose or I've let them loose. He was a big man with no stamina, and I was letting him run out of steam so I could get him back on the table and do this the right way!"

Dean looked down at Louter, then back up at Cas. "You had it under control?" he asked, his anger bleeding away.

"Yes!" Cas said, frustration straining his voice. "If what Louter just did to me would've subdued me, I would've been dead a long time ago. I've dealt with bigger, meaner, stronger, more violent people than him, and I know what the fuck I'm doing!"

"Oh," Dean said, shoulders dropping as he leaned against the table. "I'm sorry. I-I didn't know. I mean I knew you sometimes let them loose, but I didn't know it got that bad and worse. I'm sorry. I thought I was helping."

Cas held his hands out at his sides. "Did I ask you for help?"

"No, but-"

"No, I didn't," Cas said, taking two steps toward Dean, grabbing him by the arm, and shoving him against the edge of the table, knocking the wind out of him.

As Dean gasped for air, his body a little weak from the shock, Cas flipped him up onto the table.

"And you just killed someone," Cas said, slamming Dean back hard enough that his head bounced, stunning him. "Seems like you didn't get enough of my table the other day. Now I get to play."

Dean struggled, but he'd only just gotten his breath back and the blow to the back of his head was still making him unsteady, so when Cas pulled the strap across his chest, Dean's flailing accomplished nothing.

Cas was quick. He had to be after all these years, and soon Dean was strapped down to the table, panting and eyes wide with fear.

"Cas, I'm sorry!" Dean said as Cas rummaged through his drawers. "I wasn't thinking. I thought he was going to kill you. I'm sorry!"

"You have no idea how many things I can do to you," Cas said as he pulled a rib spreader out of his bottom drawer and slammed it onto the top of his rolling cart, "and I can get away with it because you taught me how to manipulate the reports."

"I didn't know," Dean whimpered, not even struggling against the straps holding him down. "I didn't know you had it under control. I swear. I thought the only time you had to deal with people in here was after they'd been injured. I didn't know you had it under control, Cas, please!"

Cas pulled out the bottle of acid and slammed it down onto the cart, watching as tears started to run from the corners of Dean's eyes down into his hair. Cas turned to his cabinets and pulled out his speculum and medical-grade scissors.

"Cas, please!" Dean begged. "I'm so sorry! I'll do anything to make it up to you! I'll tell the CON it was my fault. I'll tell them I broke in here and fucked everything up. I'll tell them I let him loose and then got scared and killed him. I'll tell them you had nothing to do with it! Cas, please! Please don't do this! Cas!"

Cas picked up the scissors and started cutting Dean's clothes away. They were extremely sharp, but bent in a way that made it easy to cut the clothes without cutting skin.

"Please," Dean whimpered, hands balled into fists as he tried to control his breathing.

Cas knew Dean was using techniques he'd learned in his psychology studies, but it wouldn't work. Not with what Cas knew about Dean. He knew just how to terrify the man.

"Now would be the time to admit any sins," Cas said as he threw Dean's boots into the corner and yanked his socks off. "Tell me who or what you've killed, even as a child. I know there's darkness in there. Share your secrets."

Dean squeezed his eyes shut as Cas pulled the last of Dean's clothing off and dropped it on the floor, leaving Dean shivering and cold. "I've never killed anyone before this, and I was only t-trying to keep you safe. If I would've known you were okay, I w-wouldn't have done it."

Cas slapped Dean's flank, making Dean flinch. "You knew exactly what you were doing. You know how long I've been doing this, how good I am at my job, and that I was already able to out-maneuver Louter in the warehouse when I was at a disadvantage."

"I know you're good," Dean said, bottom lip wobbling as he turned his head way from the knife Cas had picked up, "but I-"

"You wanted a kill," Cas said, shrugging even though Dean couldn't see him with his eyes closed. "You saw an opportunity you wouldn't have gotten for a long time, and you took it."

"Cas, I-"

"I told you," Cas said as he leaned down, putting his lips to Dean's right ear, whispering as the man shivered beneath him, "that you were to do everything I said. Follow my orders exactly."

"I know," Dean said softly.

"Since you're not an idiot," Cas said, poking the tip of his knife into Dean's chin, "I can only assume you were tired of waiting."

Dean tried to lift his chin, to get away from the pain, but his head was strapped down and left no room to move. A thin trail of blood dripped down his neck before Cas pulled the knife away and stood up straight.

"Tell me everything you've done," Cas said as he ran the dull edge of the blade over Dean's stomach, across his cock, and down to his balls, "and for every sin you confess, I'll knock five minutes off the timeline I have in my head. Tell enough truths and this will be over quickly with minimal suffering."

Dean looked up at him, eyes red-rimmed and tears running down the sides of his face. "I've never killed anyone before," he said, voice cracking. "I've never even killed an animal. I swear this is the first time I've... Oh, fuck! I just killed somebody. I just fucking killed somebody!"

Cas could hear the manic tone to Dean's voice and decided to take it one step further as Dean's breathing became even more ragged, whimpers escaping his throat as he tried to control the tears.

"We'll start with something that seemed to appeal to you the other day," Cas said, setting his knife on the cart and picking up the speculum.

Dean tried to keep an eye on the speculum as Cas pulled lube out of his drawer and slicked the tool up with just enough to make sure he didn't tear Dean with it. As he reached between Dean's legs, his Handler finally lost what little control he had.

"No! No, please, Cas, no!" Dean screamed, trying to squeeze his legs together.

The straps held his ankles far enough apart that Cas was easily able to lift Dean's cock and balls, then push the speculum into Dean's ass.

"Ow! Fuck, no!" Dean cried out, struggling so hard that Cas knew he'd have burns on his ankles, forehead, and wrists later. His eyes were wide as he watched Cas pull the plastic gloves on. "No! Cas! Cas, I'm sorry! I'm so fucking sorry! I swear I didn't-no! No!" he howled as Cas uncapped the acid.

Dean broke down into heavy sobs, losing his breath for a moment, chest heaving as he tried to get his breath back. He was trying to speak, but nothing coherent was coming out anymore, just sobs and moans, drool running from the right corner of his mouth and snot dripping from his nose. Cas' cock was hard and leaking inside his pants.

"Do you remember how it smelled?" Cas asked. "The smell of flesh melting is unique, so you probably remember it."

Cas picked up the pipette and reached down between Dean's legs, moving Dean's balls again and tilting the speculum up just a little. Dean let out a wail that nearly made Cas come in his pants, Dean's body stiff and using every ounce of strength to try and get away, bladder letting loose and spraying urine over Dean's left thigh and hip.

He set the pipette on Dean's stomach, then pulled the gloves off, dropping them on the floor before he pulled his own cock out of his pants and quickly jerked himself off, coming all over Dean's right thigh.

Dean was too terrified to realize it wasn't acid, and he screamed even harder. Cas sighed, the high from his orgasm making him shiver because it had been just that damn good. As Cas put his cock back in his pants and zipped up, Dean slowly started to realize his leg wasn't burning, and he tried to look down at it.

Cas swiped his finger through his load, then pushed his fingers into Dean's mouth, giving Dean a taste. Dean stopped making noise other than the panting breaths when Cas pulled his fingers out, and Cas leaned down, grabbing Dean's chin roughly, Dean's face a mess of snot, tears, and spit.

"Have you learned your lesson?" Cas asked, calm and collected after having put on a show for Dean, acting the part of a serial killer flying off the handle, which Cas never did even with his most frustrating cases. And Dean would've remembered that had he not been terrified.

More tears leaked from the corners of Dean's eyes as he whimpered and nodded. He was too shocked and wrung out from his ordeal to answer with words, so Cas let it go.

Cas gave him a tight smile and stood up straight, quickly and efficiently unbuckling the straps holding Dean down. "Stay on the table while you compose yourself or you'll fall flat on your face when you get up."

"'K," Dean said, voice scratchy from all the screaming.

Instead of trying to sit up or move to the edge of the table, Dean turned on his side, facing Cas, and curled up, staring at the wall of drawers and cabinets. Cas allowed him the time to recover as he pulled a body bag out of his cabinets and put on a new pair of gloves. Once he was finished, he rolled Louter into the bag and zipped it up.

"I killed him," Dean whispered.

Cas didn't respond. He busied himself cleaning up and putting his tools away. The pipette had been empty all along, and even the cup Dean thought he'd poured the acid into was empty, so Cas simply put it all back in his drawers and cabinets.

"What do we do?" Dean asked.

"You're going to keep your mouth shut about this," Cas said. "I'll submit the report to you and you'll send it in as you always do. Mr. Louter woke up before I had a chance to properly tie him down because he's a big man and the drive was longer than I anticipated. Once he started attacking me, I decided to just end it."

"You'll get in trouble," Dean said, finally making eye contact with Cas.

"Louter has killed too many people for the CON to be picky," Cas said. "I rarely make mistakes, and if I say a quick stab to the back was needed, they'll believe me. It's my knife, and if they check for signs of a struggle, they'll not only find bruises, but they'll also find my skin under his fingernails."

Cas washed his hands in the sink, then walked around the table and gently took the speculum out of Dean. Dean flinched, as if he'd forgotten it was there, but settled quickly. Cas put it in a bag along with the pipette before he started dragging the body out the door and covering the bag with a tarp, ready for pick up later. He knew he was cross-contaminating, not cleaning his floor and other surfaces before dragging the body out, but one time wouldn't hurt.

Dean was sitting up, legs dangling over the edge of the table when Cas got back inside the kill room. He was staring at the blood on the floor. A lot of blood. He sniffled and wiped at his face, but couldn't seem to stop staring.

Cas started the hose, making the water a little warmer than usual before helping Dean off the table. He handed Dean a bar of soap and used the lowest setting on the hose to get Dean all wet. He set the hose down on the floor and stripped his own bloodied clothes off while Dean soaped himself up, and when Dean was done, Cas used the soap on himself.

He washed, then rinsed the both of them before spreading some cleaner on the floor and rinsing that down as well, Dean standing off to the side, shivering, not saying a word while Cas finished his regular cleaning of the kill room.

Cas put the hose and cleanser away, then took Dean by the hand and led him up to the house, purposely keeping Dean on his right so he wouldn't stop and stare at the body on Cas' left. Once they were in the kitchen, Cas closed and locked the door, then headed to his bedroom.

Dean didn't move after Cas let go of him when Dean was standing in the middle of the room, still in shock and too scared to move unless told to. Cas got a big towel out of his bathroom and dried both of them off, then handed Dean a pair of sweat pants and a T-shirt. Dean didn't try to dress himself. He just stood there staring at the floor, as if he could still see Louter down there, bleeding out.

Once Cas was dressed in sweats and a T-shirt himself, he took the T-shirt from Dean and grabbed Dean's chin with his free hand. "Put the pants on," he said clearly.

Dean nodded, leaning down and pulling the pants up his legs. He then handed Dean the T-shirt and waited while Dean pulled it over his head and down his torso.

"Get into bed," Cas said, pointing at his bed.

Dean didn't hesitate. Didn't make a snarky comment or turn it into something dirty. He just climbed in and got under the covers, back to Cas. Cas climbed in too, staying on the opposite side. He didn't owe Dean anything, and he wasn't equipped to comfort anyone. Dean didn't deserve comfort anyway and he'd have to learn to handle it himself. He'd never make it as a Cleaner if he couldn't handle what had just happened, and it should've never happened anyway.

Cas started to fall asleep, not longer irritated because it had been taken care of, and he'd not only had a good orgasm, but he'd also killed his target. Then Dean shifted in the bed, and Cas never could sleep through disturbances like that.

"I'm sorry, Cas," Dean whispered.

Cas didn't reply. He hoped Dean would get the message and try to get some sleep. But he was Dean, and Dean didn't work like Cas. He didn't work like anybody Cas had ever known.

"Cas?"

Dean was whispering, but Cas could hear the fear even in that. Dean was coming down from a big scare, and things were probably fully hitting him. He'd killed a human being. An awful one, but he'd still killed him. Cas remembered feeling that odd mix of power and futility killing his first human. Something that moved him soul deep. He wasn't sure what it was like for someone with an almost total lack of empathy and compassion, but it had to be much worse.

Cas' first kill had been a blow to his chest. He'd known that humans could die easily, but what he wasn't ready for was the anticlimactic feeling of it all. It sated something inside him, but killing a human had been built up in his head for so long by everything and everyone around him that he assumed there be something more, but there wasn't. The life went out of his kill's eyes and that was it.

It was power and futility. The ability to take life, yet that life did nothing but sate something that was always there anyway.

"Cas?"

"What, Dean?"

"Are we okay?" Dean asked. "I mean, I know I fucked up, but was that the end of it? Or are you going to punish me for this over the next few weeks and-"

Dean's eyes widened as Cas turned around and faced him. He looked so small in Cas' bed. So vulnerable. Like someone had cracked open a dam and Dean didn't really know if he liked what came out.

"I told you I don't sit on things," Cas said. "If I have a problem with you, you're going to know about it. It's your decision to change your behavior from then on out, but as far as I'm concerned what happened tonight is done."

"Are you ever going to trust me again?" Dean asked, voice barely there.

"I trust you, and tonight didn't change that," Cas said, noting the way Dean's whole body relaxed a bit when he said the words. "Now you know a little better the consequences of your behavior. I think you're smart enough to never let that happen again."

Dean nodded. "Won't happen again. Thanks, Cas."

Cas turned over again. "Go to sleep."

Dean was quiet for a while, but Cas knew Dean wasn't done. Dean breathed differently when something was on his mind, and he had a lot on his mind.

"Cas?"

"Go to sleep."

Dean held his breath. Like if he didn't, he would blurt it out. It wouldn't stay inside. Finally he sighed. "It was too easy to kill him," he said softly.

So Dean _did_ feel that anticlimactic fuzziness. The dull roar inside him that said there should've been something more. That feeling that something significant should've changed and the hollow emptiness when it didn't.

"Even the hardest ones to put down are still too easy," Cas said.

It was enough for Dean to pick up on. It was enough that Dean would feel a connection, to know that he wasn't alone in the gauze wrapped around his brain.

"Thanks, Cas," Dean whispered.


	7. Chapter 7

Cas woke at his usual time and slipped out of bed, leaving Dean to sleep. He'd had a rough night and would probably sleep longer than usual. Cas signed into Dean's account on his computer, changed the orders, filled out the report letting the CON know what had happened even though it really hadn't happened that way, and sent off both his report and one in Dean's name saying the case was closed.

He received an email about ten minutes later that the crew would pick up the body within the hour, so he went out to his kill room to make sure everything was clean, even though he'd thoroughly cleaned the night before, and locked the door as he left.

Cas wasn't sure if Dean would have an appetite, but he cooked eggs, bacon, and fried up the half bag of hash browns in his freezer while the coffee brewed. He heard Dean flush the toilet, and soon his Handler was walking into the kitchen, a little quieter than normal, but by the look on his face he was waiting for the social cue from Cas. The sign that would tell him if Cas was ready to talk to him like nothing had changed between them.

"Hungry?" Cas asked.

That was all Dean had needed. He hadn't wanted an "are you okay?" or "we need to forget about last night" or any of the other hundreds of things Cas could've said if Cas was a different person. Dean needed to know Cas was being Cas and he would treat him like he always did.

Dean nodded. "Yeah. I love your eggs," he said as he sat down at the table.

"I've told you before to add a dash of milk to them before you put them in the pan," Cas said as he plated the food and set the plates on the table. "It makes all the difference."

Dean chuckled. "I tried it and the eggs came out soupy," he said as he dug into his food.

"A dash doesn't mean a cup or three," Cas said, pouring coffee into Dean's mug.

"I'll just keep coming over here for your eggs," Dean said.

Dean knew how to cook. He was actually really good at it. No one but his family and Cas knew that because Dean kept it hidden like a vulnerable secret. Cas still didn't know why, but he knew he was one of very few people in the world who had eaten one of Dean's Boston cream pies. Cas had never tasted anything like it.

"Are you ready for the next case?" Dean asked with a mouthful of eggs, grinning with egg-covered teeth when Cas frowned at him.

Dean was behaving normally, and Cas considered it a win.

Cas woke up early again, having only gotten three hours of sleep, and he rubbed at his eyes as he walked into the bathroom and started the shower. He made the water as hot as he could stand it, and after pissing in the toilet, he stepped into the shower and stood under the shower head, closing his eyes.

He took a long shower, enjoying the way the warmth seeped into his bones. He shaved in the shower, washed up, then pulled on some jeans and a gray T-shirt that was so worn it was almost see-through.

It had been a week since he'd done research with Dean, jerked him off while quizzing him on the case files, and sent him on his way with instructions to finish up his own research on the file by himself while Cas started going out to follow the subject.

Dean had texted him a few times to ask if he could come over, but Cas said no, said he was busy. Which was true. When Cas had a case, he was focused and anticipating the next kill. Dean didn't need to know that Cas just wanted some room to breathe.

There was a text on his phone when he picked it up off the bedside table, and Cas rolled his eyes when he saw it was from Dean.

_Dean: want some breakfast?_

Cas ignored it, walked out to the kitchen, and made himself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with the white bread from the pantry. He poured himself a glass of milk and took everything into the office.

_Dean: fine i didn't want to have breakfast with you anyway. but i do need to ask you some questions about a case they're pushing on you. can you call me?_

Cas hit the callback button and put it on speaker so he could eat his sandwich and play a game of solitaire on the desktop computer while listening to Dean.

"Hey, Cas," Dean said, sounding very cheery.

"What's up?" Cas asked.

"You're not gonna ask how I am?" Dean teased. Cas reached for the phone, but stopped when he heard Dean blurting out, "No! Wait! Don't hang up on me! I'll stop trying to bore you with that ridiculous thing most people do. You know, that thing where people care about one another and-"

Cas hit the end button.

_Dean: :(_

Cas sighed, then hit the callback button. "Yes, Dean?"

"They're pushing a case on you, but the guy raped his victims," Dean said, instead of beating around the bush.

"No, I don't want it," Cas said, shaking his head even though Dean couldn't see him.

"Now wait," Dean said in his Handler voice. The one that Cas sometimes calmed Cas down even when he really didn't want to be handled. "The only reason I'm telling you about it is because the circumstances on it are different and they know you have expertise in this particular area."

"Expertise?" Cas asked, indignant. "I've never-"

"I know! But let me explain!"

"Okay," Cas said, nodding.

"Eiker used toys to hurt his victims, not his dick," Dean said, "and the reason they want you to take it is because this guy is totally immersed in the BDSM lifestyle. None of the current Cleaners they have on hire are experienced. Well, there are a few, but they really don't want to go with these three Cleaners. They're a little unpredictable. One of them has been imprisoned twice for breaking the rules and two of them have had multiple formal reprimands."

"They're sure he didn't have skin-to-skin sexual contact?" Cas asked.

"As sure as they can be," Dean said. "If he was wearing a condom to fuck them, there would at least be _something_ to go by, like pubic hair or trace amounts of skin from his legs and crotch area, but they haven't found anything aside from latex that could be from gloves, a few kinds of lube, and rusty metal shavings."

"So not just toys," Cas said.

"No," Dean said, huffing out a laugh. "Unless you consider rusty pipes a fun toy."

"Tell the CON I'll tentatively take the case," Cas said, closing his solitaire game, "but I'm using my right to refuse if I find any evidence he's actually fucked any of them."

"I already told them that," Dean said.

"Where did they get the name?" Cas asked, always curious as to the CON's reasons behind naming killers when they didn't know their actual names.

Dean chuckled. "I think you'll like this one. The first body they found was dumped in a junk yard on top of all these old Eiker wheels. You know, the kind they slapped on Volvo cars to give it that oh-so-classy look."

"Okay, send me the files," Cas said. "I'm still working on Mr. Tamanandi. It'll have to wait, which means more murders."

"They'll wait for you," Dean said confidently. "They can't even find the guy, and the last Cleaner they sent hasn't been heard from in over a week."

"Really," Cas said, intrigued. "And you're not hiding this one from me or refusing?"

"I know you're good, Cas," Dean said, sighing. "You're really good. I just worry about you. I don't think you'll let your guard down around him, and I don't think you'll jump in before you know everything about him, even what toothpaste brand he uses."

"The Cleaner jumped the gun?" Cas asked.

Dean grunted. "Yeah. It was a newbie. The CON didn't realize this guy was so dangerous, and this newbie Cleaner went straight from getting the case file to walking into one of the most popular BDSM clubs in the area and asking around about him."

"Wow," Cas said, then snorted. "Who trained him?"

Dean hesitated. "I know you're going to make me tell you, but I want you to know before I say anything else that I'm behind you. I'm listening to everything you say. I'm not doing anything without your approval or without knowing how you want me to handle it."

"He was a Handler," Cas said instead of asked.

Dean sighed again. "Yeah."

"So I'll ask you again who trained him," Cas said.

"I swear I'm not gonna do this, Cas," Dean said desperately.

"I'll assume the answer to my question is that a Handler didn't wait for training," Cas said, leaning back in his chair, "registered himself, then took the case without ever having been formally trained."

"Yeah," Dean said, voice soft.

"I know you're not that Handler, Dean," Cas said, and he wasn't lying. Dean would never have pulled a stunt like that. "You set up the kill room in your garage, and you were telling the truth when you said you weren't going to use it. But I want this to reinforce in your mind the fact that you need to do as I say, even when it doesn't make sense. I'm only trying to keep you safe."

"Because you like me?" Dean asked, and Cas could just hear the grin.

"Didn't I hang up on you once already this conversation?" Cas asked, but there was a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Oh, c'mon!" Dean whined. "Can't you even admit you tolerate me? You don't have to get down on your knees and profess your undying love for me. But you like me, right?"

"The last time I ate pizza and watched movies with someone I was only fifteen years old and I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with him," Cas said, purposely revealing just enough. Dean wouldn't know who he was talking about, but it was a significant chunk of what made Cas who he was.

There was a strangled, gurgling sound on the other end of the line. "Cas?" Dean said, voice barely a whisper.

"Yes, Dean?"

"Be careful with Tamanandi, okay?" Dean said, voice cracking a little.

"I will," Cas said. "I'll text you later tonight when I'm ready to pick him up."

"Okay," Dean said. "Bye, Cas."

"Bye, Dean."

Cas hit the end button and chuckled before grabbing his empty glass and napkin, heading out to the kitchen, and washing up.

Tamanandi didn't struggle when he woke up. He glared at Cas, a challenge in his eyes. "Untie me," he said, his vowels drawn out in a way that would probably be creepy to a civilian.

"No," Cas said as he rolled the cart closer.

"Spineless degenerate," Tamanandi growled, then spit at Cas. "Untie me and we'll see who's fit to survive this encounter."

"That's not how this works," Cas said, not bothered in the least that there was a glob of spit on his apron. "Your victims didn't have a fighting chance, and neither will you. I'd gladly untie you if it fit your profile, because you do seem like you'd be very fun to play with."

"You won't," Tamanandi said in a mocking tone. "You're going to play by the rules. A killer for hire who does as he's told. By the book. A slave."

Cas chuckled. "Yes, a slave. I'm glad we cleared that up."

"A sick, twisted boy who grew into a spineless man," Tamanandi said.

"You already used spineless," Cas said as he picked up a hacksaw. "Given your scholastic background, I assumed you'd have a larger vocabulary."

"A spineless man who got diddled by Daddy when he was little and takes it out on everyone he finds," Tamanandi said, smirking.

"Ah, see, that's what most people assume," Cas said as he walked around to the end of the table, where Mr. Tamanandi's feet were resting, vulnerable and naked. "I hate to disappoint you but I had a wonderful childhood. My parents were very loving, very supportive of me without going overboard, they loved each other, and neither of them ever touched me inappropriately. Nobody else did either."

Mr. Tamanandi snorted. "A person doesn't become what you are without something to warp their mind. Who was it? A brother? Sister? Teacher?"

Cas sawed off Mr. Tamanandi's right foot at the ankle, the screams louder than the sound of the saw crunching through bone. He let the foot fall to the floor, then walked around the table and picked up two photographs.

"If you'd like to know. If it'll make you feel better," Cas said, "the first time I had sex I was nineteen. It was consensual, both on my part and his, and we fucked seven more times over the course of three weeks before he moved to Seattle because of a job offer. It was an amicable separation, we weren't in love, and if I saw him again I'd take him up on an offer to fuck again because he was a good lay."

"Nobody played with you, but something happened," Tamanandi said, panting and wincing. "There's always a reason."

"Not always," Cas said, shaking his head. "I realized I liked killing, someone helped hone my skills, and it turned into a very rewarding career."

"Then you're fucked in the head," Tamanandi sneered. "Just a reject that should've been dashed on the rocks immediately after birth."

"Ah, yes, I nearly forgot," Cas said, even though he hadn't really forgotten. "Thank you for reminding me about what you did to your son."

"Wasn't right in the head," Tamanandi drawled. "I put him out of his misery."

"I'm sure you did," Cas said. "Growing up with a father who regularly saws limbs off random people might not have settled well with the boy. You started with Marlon's fingers, am I right?"

"Marlon wasn't my first," Tamanandi said, wincing a bit as he tried to shift his legs. "My first was Tanya. I cut off her tits first."

"Oh, thank you," Cas said as he grabbed the forceps from his tray. "I knew you did that to some of the more recent women you'd murdered, but I hadn't been able to figure out whether Tanya's tits or her foot was first. My mistake. Forgive me. It'll be out of order now."

"I ate her fingers," Tamanandi said, trying to shock Cas.

"Yes, you did," Cas said as he clamped Tamanandi's left nipple with the forceps. "And soon you'll be eating your own."

"You're not eating them?" Tamanandi asked, smirking.

"No," Cas said, shaking his head. "This is about your deeds, so it's only fitting you get to enjoy a last meal."

"Pussy," Tamanandi said, then screamed as Cas sawed his nipple off. "Spineless pussy who can't even follow through with what he's being paid to do," he said, voice gravely from all the screaming. "You're supposed to tell me all the awful things I did, then do them back to me, not just hack at me."

"I do as I see fit," Cas said, shrugging. "And since you've never cared for anybody in your life, never felt any strong emotion toward anyone because of your tragic childhood, there's no point in giving you a lecture, so I'm just having fun."

"Fuck you," Tamanandi said, a little bit of heat in his tone of voice. "The least I deserve is for this to be done right."

Cas chuckled. "You deserve a lot more than I'll be able to do to you tonight," he said as he attached the forceps to Tamanandi's right nipple. "But you're a true psychopath, feel no remorse, and nothing I say is going to change that."

"True," Tamanandi said, smiling. "But by the way you carry yourself, you like to do things right. This isn't being done right if you don't give me the lecture."

Cas cut Mr. Tamanandi's right nipple off and waited for the screaming to stop. "You're right. Why don't you take over? You seem to like the sound of your own voice, so narrate our encounter while I finish up."

Mr. Tamanandi laughed. "I like you. You're funny," he said, smiling. "I'll take you up on your offer. Might as well make this fun for both of us."

Cas moved the hacksaw to Tamanandi's right hand. "Embellish it if you'd like."

"Tanya was my first, you knew that," he said, immersing himself in the story-telling. "But after I cut her tits, foot, and fingers off, I got bored and went straight for her neck. She wouldn't stop screaming anyway."

"You don't appreciate the screaming?" Cas asked, frowning, then sawed through the thumb.

"No, I don't," Mr. Tamanandi said after he was finished yelling, his remaining fingers shaking and the blood pooling beneath his hand. "It's a hazard of the game. But when I killed Marlon, I duct-taped his mouth. It was so much nicer. It muffled his screams so I could focus on what I was doing. Fingers, feet, hands, one leg, one arm, cock, the other arm. He died too fast for my liking though."

Cas cut off the fingers of Tamanandi's right hand. "I've learned over the years how to draw it out. You learn as you go."

"True, true," Tamanandi said, wincing. "See, I cut the femoral artery as I took off Marlon's leg. He bled out before I could finish sawing through his cock."

"That's too bad," Cas said, taking off Tamanandi's hand, the hacksaw cutting through bone until the bone gave out and splintered, the hand falling to the table. Cas pressed a plastic cap over the end of the limb, stopping the blood flow as much as possible so the man wouldn't die before Cas was done.

"I still finished sawing off what I wanted to," he said. "But Amanda, oh, she was perfect. She went slow, and I savored every bit of it."

Cas moved around to the other side of the table and cut Tamanandi's left thumb off. "Did you feel any sort of connection to your wife?" he asked. "I know psychopaths don't form emotional bonds, but there was a reason you stayed with her, chose to have children with her. There's a reason she's still alive."

Tamanandi laughed. "You're wondering if what you're feeling is anything like what I feel for my wife. You've got somebody. Well, I'll put your mind at ease, because you're obviously not a psychopath. I stayed with her because she served a purpose. Best home cooking I've ever had and she could never get enough sex. Wants it all the time. But if somebody else would've done those things for me and still kept quiet about what I did to people, I'd have kept them too."

Cas cut off Tamanandi's left hand and slipped the cap over the stump of the ravaged limb, then sighed. "He's infuriating."

Tamanandi was losing his voice from all the screaming. "My girl was never infuriating. Beautiful, fuckin' hot, perfect fuckin' pussy, amazing cook, but she was smacked around enough by her daddy that by the time we met she was very obedient. Otherwise I would've killed her. You don't wanna kill yours."

Cas shook his head, then paused. "Hurt him, yes. In fact I'd love to get him on this table again. But kill him? No."

Tamanandi was getting weak from the blood loss, eyelids drooping. "Aww, Cleaner's in love and he doesn't even know what love feels like."

"I've loved before," Cas said as he picked up the severed fingers and removed the meat from the bone, "but it's never been like it is in the movies. It's a strong attachment, loyalty, possessiveness, but I've never had a head rush, never felt like sacrificing everything for someone else."

Tamanandi let out a huff that would've been a laugh had he more strength left in his tired body. "A killer's version of love. That's what it is. Us freaks, the ones that aren't like all those happily ignorant idiots out there, we don't work like they do. You can watch all the romantic comedies, listen to all the love songs, and read all the love poems you want and you'll never find yourself identifying with them. I've loved my wife in my own way. The only way I could."

Cas held the meat from two fingers up to Tamanandi's lips. "Too tired for this?" he asked.

He laughed, some blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. "Much rather have her souffle. Damn, that woman could cook. Gonna miss that where I'm goin'," he said, eyes losing the last bit of spark, lips going lax, and his last breath hissing out.

"You're not going anywhere," Cas said to the dead man. "We make our own Heaven and Hell because we all know there's nothing waiting for us after death."

Cas cleaned up, walked back to the house, and finished the last two pieces of pizza left over from the night he'd spent watching movies with Dean. He missed the company, feeling alone on the couch. No one was commenting on all the stupid mistakes in the horror movie he watched.

After he finished cleaning up the kitchen, he climbed into bed and jerked off, gasping out Dean's name when he came.

The traffic was heavy, and Cas was hungry, tired, and ready to be home. He hadn't meant to stay out so late, but after finding the target of their latest case, Cas had been too enthralled to leave, so he'd stayed all night. Morning rush hour sucked.

His phone chirped again, and since Cas was at a standstill with no hope of moving for at least a few minutes, he pulled out his phone.

"Thirty-two messages?" Cas grumbled. Just then the phone rang in his hand. "Yes?" he said after he slid his finger over the screen.

"You're okay!" Dean nearly yelled in his ear. "You're okay?! You asshole! You're fine?!"

"Do I need to hang up on you already?" Cas asked as he made a right turn.

"No! No, don't do that," Dean said, and it was obvious he was forcing himself to calm down. "Sorry. I just got a little upset when I brought you breakfast and you're not fucking here!" he said, his voice getting louder with each word.

"I stayed to watch," Cas said.

"Damn it, Cas, you're supposed to keep me on the line if you're still on an active recon."

Cas huffed out a laugh. "No, that's not part of the arrangement. You just want it to be that way because you were worried Eiker would get his hands on me."

"Yeah, but you said you were going home!" Dean said, and Cas could hear the hurt in his tone of voice.

"I'm going home right now," Cas said.

"You lied to me," Dean said. "You never lie to me." And yes, that was definitely hurt in Dean's voice.

"I never said I was leaving when we ended the call last night," Cas said. "I wasn't lying."

"Fuck your selective choice of words," Dean grumbled. "He scares the hell outta me, Cas."

"Why?" Cas asked, frowning.

"Because I saw the look on your face when you were scrolling through the crime scene photos," Dean said, sighing. "You're impressed by him, which means you're gonna take more time with him instead of just grab and gank. Which means he has more opportunities to turn the tables on you. Which means I lose my partner."

Cas put the phone on speaker and set it on the dashboard since traffic was moving again. "I've done this for years."

"I know, but," Dean started, then trailed off. He let out a huff. "You're gonna hang up on me, I know it, but I'm gonna say it anyway. You have this look in your eyes. You don't get it very often. In fact I've only seen it a few times. When you're looking at Eiker's work your eyes get a little more round and you get this almost-wrinkle in your forehead, and you bite your lip more often."

"I see my lessons on being observant are getting through to you," Cas said, not too sure how he felt about Dean looking so closely. "But I don't have a desire to hang up on you."

"No, that's not what's gonna do it," Dean said, then his voice got softer, but the words poured out much quicker. "The other times you look like that you're talking about _him_ , and it makes me think it wasn't what everybody else thought it was. It wasn't the... It's not fear in your eyes. But it's not just fascination either. And I... Are you still there?"

"Yes," Cas said.

"You didn't hang up on me," Dean said, bewildered.

"No."

"The only other time you've looked at crime scene photos that way," Dean said, voice shaky, "you got hurt. Hurt bad. And I think it's because you let _him_ in, let him get under your skin, and I don't want the same to happen with Eiker."

"It won't happen with Eiker," Cas said, and he meant it. "What you're seeing is interest. He's very efficient, very vicious, and very driven. He impresses me. Watching him kill last night was an almost orgasmic experience. He's beautiful when he kills. However, that won't stop me from keeping an eye on him at all times and killing him once I've got him on my table. He's not getting under my skin. He won't even have the chance to."

"So the faraway look in your eyes when I say something about _him_ ," Dean said cautiously, "that part I don't see when you talk about Eiker. Is that because he got under your skin?"

"Are you at my house?" Cas asked, changing the subject.

"Uhm, yeah," Dean replied, sounding a little confused.

"Wanna get fucked?"

Dean squeaked.

"I'm very horny even though I already jerked off after I left Eiker's house," Cas said. "I'd like to fuck you."

"Okay," Dean said, voice a little breathy, as if he couldn't wrap his head around the situation, but he was still turned on.

"Go into my bedroom, take off all your clothes, open the third drawer down in the dresser, use the lube to prepare yourself, then put on the handcuffs that are in the drawer," Cas said. "Hands behind your back. And I want you waiting on the bed."

"How far away are you?" Dean asked, and Cas could hear him hurrying to the bedroom.

"Not that far," Cas said.

"Okay, see you soon!" Dean said, then ended the call.


	8. Chapter 8

Cas took his time carrying in the groceries and putting them away. There was enough for the next week and a couple of meals he could share with Dean. He bought a tub of ice cream and some soda for floats, not really sure if Dean liked them, but figuring he'd eat them himself if Dean didn't.

He made his way down the hallway and into his bedroom, taking off his coat as he went. Dean was sitting on the edge of the bed, scowl on his face.

"Where the fuck were you?" Dean asked, almost spitting out the words.

"I picked up some groceries," Cas said casually, fully aware of Dean's anger. He unbuttoned his light blue shirt, then draped it on the chair next to the bed.

"You could've said something," Dean nearly growled. "You said you were almost home."

"I said I wasn't far from home," Cas said as he slipped the belt out of its loops and put it over the shirt.

"That was an hour and a half ago," Dean said through clenched teeth.

Cas placed his shoes in the closet, then put his slacks on a hanger and came back out to see Dean standing near the bed. Cas didn't want to admit, even to himself, that it had been a test. An experiment. There were times he was perfectly fine with the way his brain worked, and the fact that he enjoyed watching cause and effect play out, but there were other times it just made him feel even more detached from humans, and those were the times he didn't want to admit what he was doing.

"I couldn't find the key," Dean said as he turned around and presented his wrists to Cas. "I want out. You knew what you were doing when you told me to wait for you, and you could've said you were going shopping."

"You looked through my things?" Cas asked, tossing his underwear in the hamper.

"Yeah," Dean said, voice full of attitude, "and don't you dare get pissy with me for touching your shit. You left me here for-oof!"

Cas shoved Dean face down onto the bed, his legs dangling over the side. Cas used the cuffs to wrench Dean's arms up his back.

"Cas! Lemme go! Fuckin' let me go!" Dean yelled, legs flailing.

Cas brought his hand down on Dean's ass, a loud smack that made Dean freeze, hold his breath.

"I think you've forgotten who I am," Cas said calmly.

"No, I didn't," Dean said, voice shaking with rage. "You're the asshole who left me here for an hour and a half, my wrists getting sore, my back aching, and no key anywhere. You knew what you were doing, but that fucking selective wording shit you pull is a game, and I don't appreciate being played. Now let me up, you fucking psycho!"

Cas held Dean down with his right hand while he opened his bedside drawer and pulled out a short length of cord. It was thick and wouldn't hurt Dean if he really struggled, but firm and would cause abrasions Dean worked at it.

"What are you doing?" Dean asked as he squirmed, trying to look at Cas over his shoulder.

Cas didn't say anything. He tied Dean's ankles together, tightly enough that he wouldn't be able to wiggle free, but loose so he shouldn't lose circulation. Cas turned Dean over, then hefted him onto his shoulder and carried him into the hallway bathroom, not his own en suite bathroom.

"What are you doing? Put me down!" Dean yelled, enraged and flailing so hard his ankles slammed into the door frame as Cas walked in.

Cas lowered Dean into the bathtub, then turned off the light and walked out, closing the door behind him.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" Dean yelled, thrashing about in the tub. "Don't leave me in here! Cas! You fucker! Get me out of here! Cas!"

One more thing Cas was thankful for was the soundproofing in his house. It was just as good as the soundproofing on his kill room, courtesy of the government. No one would hear Dean scream.

"Let me out! Cas! Cas! Don't leave me here! You can't leave me here, you fucker!" Dean yelled so loudly that his voice cracked.

Cas walked out to the kitchen, confident that Dean wouldn't be able to make his way out of the tub and to the door. He'd read Dean's files, had known him for five years, and it was more than enough to have learned Dean's fears and insecurities. He could hear Dean screaming himself hoarse, and soon it turned to sobbing pleas as Cas created a casserole that would easily stay warm in the oven while they did other things for a while. Cas hadn't realized Dean would find it distressing enough to cry over, but he wasn't overly concerned.

"... didn't forget. I swear I didn't forget, Cas, please. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. Please. I know who you are. I was mad. And I was hurt that you left me. I got pissed and threw a temper tantrum, but I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. Please, Cas, I know who you are. I always know who you are. Cas, please. Please. Please don't leave me in here. Please."

Cas stood by the door for a few minutes, letting Dean whimper through his apologies.

Dean let out another sob. "Ow, my fuckin' nose," he whined. "Cas, I'm sorry. I won't do it again. Just let me out. Please. I'll do anything you want. Let me out. Please!"

Cas opened the door halfway, the light from the hallway painting a slash across the bathroom. He couldn't see Dean, the light only touching the bath mat, toilet, and the wall behind it.

"Cas! Cas, please!" Dean said, voice cracking and strained as a body part thumped against the side of the tub. "Ow, fuck. Cas, I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I swear I didn't forget who you were. I always know who you are. I was mad, and it was really stupid of me to go off on you like that. I've known you long enough. I should've known when you didn't give me an ETA that you weren't coming right home. I'm sorry, Cas. And I _really_ shouldn't have thrown a temper tantrum."

Cas turned the light on, watching as Dean squinted, his face bloodied from a cut above his right eyebrow and a small trickle of blood coming from his left nostril. There were tear tracks on his face.

"This isn't going to be a relationship of equals," Cas said dispassionately. "If you can't handle that, this needs to stop. And you need to give up on this idea that we're going to ride off into the sunset together."

"I know, I know," Dean said, nodding. "Cas, I swear I just got pissed. I really shouldn't have. I'm sorry. Really sorry. Not just sorry because I'm hoping you'll let me out, but I'm really sorry anyway. Although I'd be really grateful if you got me outta here too."

Cas nodded, satisfied Dean had learned his lesson. He walked up to the tub and squatted, resting his hands on the edge of the tub. "I'm going to consider this matter over and done with. You fucked up, realized what you did, and apologized. If you're ready, we'll move on."

Dean winced as he tried to nod and ended up shifting in the tub, probably putting strain on his arms. "Yeah, I'm ready."

"I put a casserole in the oven," Cas said. "It's going to take about forty-five minutes to bake. We'll get you cleaned up, then we'll get some rest before dinner's ready."

Dean nodded. "Okay, yeah."

Cas reached behind the toilet and pulled a switchblade out, then he quickly cut the cord tying Dean's ankles together. He grabbed Dean's right elbow and hefted him over the edge of the tub.

"Ah, fuck," Dean whimpered at the strain on his sore arm.

Cas got him to his feet, then turned the shower on, ignoring Dean's yelp at the cold water in favor of washing the piss down the drain from when Dean's bladder had let loose. Cas was a little surprised Dean had pissed himself. He knew Dean's misgivings about being left tied up in a tub, but certainly he wasn't scared enough to lose his bladder over it. He must've had a full bladder when Cas put him in there and just couldn't hold it any longer.

Cas grabbed the back of Dean's head and pushed it under the water. Dean started to fight for just a moment, but then allowed Cas to wipe his face clean. He shut the water off then placed his index finger and thumb on either side of Dean's nose.

Dean sucked in a gasp, closing his eyes, but Cas was gentle, moving Dean's nose to see if it was broken. Dean bit his lip, keeping quiet.

"Have you had a tetanus shot in the last ten years?" Cas asked.

"Yeah," Dean said, his demeanor much different than it had been in the bedroom.

Cas took him by the arm again. "Careful," he said as he hauled Dean out of the tub.

Dean followed him, and Cas took him to the bedroom, letting go of him in the middle of the room before reaching behind the frame above the head of the bed and pulled out the key to the handcuffs, suppressing a grin when Dean blushed. He unlocked the cuffs and tossed them and the key onto the bed.

"Stay," Cas said, then walked into his bathroom and grabbed a towel before going into his closet and getting a soft black T-shirt and gray sweat pants. He set the clothes on the bed and started to dry Dean with the towel.

Dean held his arms out to his sides, letting Cas do whatever he wanted. Cas put the towel in the hamper when he was done, then handed the clothes to Dean. He watched as Dean put them on, making sure Dean's wounds had stopped bleeding before he climbed into bed, still wearing nothing. Dean turned and waited until Cas patted the bed before he climbed in.

Cas threw the blanket over both of them and closed his eyes. Dean's breathing settled a bit, but he knew Dean wasn't sleeping.

"Hey, Cas?" Dean asked, voice whisper-soft.

"Yes."

"I'm not saying this because I'm trying to get on your good side or anything," he said, "but you were hard when I got here and you're still hard. If you wanna fuck, the offer's still on the table."

Cas turned onto his left side facing Dean, and shoved his hand down the loaned sweat pants, grabbing Dean's balls and squeezing. "What if I just want to hurt you?"

Dean panted through clenched teeth as he forced himself to stay still. "You can have anything you want, but I'm not just gonna give it to you."

Cas twisted just a bit, his own cock aching as Dean cried out, his hands hovering over his crotch as if he wanted to push Cas away but knew better.

"Why's that?" Cas asked, easing up on Dean's balls.

"Because you'd get bored," Dean said, then grinned. "I've seen you with easy kills, and I have a feeling that's why I'm hard to resist."

"You're not hard to resist," Cas said as he wrapped his hand around the base of Dean's cock.

Dean chuckled. "Says the guy who never lets people sleep in his bed," he said, looking fairly self-satisfied. "And look where I am."

Cas felt that flare inside. That one he always got around Dean. The one that made him want to skin Dean alive but hug him at the same time. No, not hug. He wanted to make Dean scream his name, then he wanted to tie him up and keep him in the closet whenever he wasn't home.

"You know I'm not some pushover who's gonna cry every time you growl at me," Dean said, looking at him from under his eyelashes.

"Says the guy who still has tear tracks on his cheeks," Cas said, even though the water had washed it away.

Dean shrugged. "You read my file and you know me, so you chose something that would scare the shit outta me because I threw a temper tantrum. But do you see me running now that you uncuffed me?"

"Maybe you're just really stupid," Cas said as Dean's cock plumped up in his hand.

Dean chuckled. "That would bore you even faster than a sniveling ass kisser."

Cas felt a small flutter in his stomach. It was that feeling of unease he got whenever someone knew more than just his name and occupation. But Dean knew so much more than anyone else did. He had to, being Cas' Handler.

Dean was a liability. Something he'd been taught to avoid. If Dean were to get his hooks in Cas any deeper than they already were, it was dangerous for both of them.

Cas pulled his hand out of Dean's sweat pants and rolled out of bed just as the timer went off on the casserole. "Dinner's ready."

Dean let out a sigh, but Cas heard him grumbling and getting out of bed as he headed down the hallway. Cas washed his hands at the sink, then pulled the casserole out of the oven with his mitts and set it on the top of the stove.

"Smell's good," Dean said. "Looks good from here, too."

Cas smirked. He was standing in Dean's line of sight for the casserole, which meant Dean was eyeing _him_ up, not the dish. He hadn't bothered to put any clothes on. Cas pulled a plate out of the cupboard, then grabbed a plastic spatula and wooden spoon out of the drawer to his left. He used the plastic spatula to put an oversized portion of the food onto the plate, then grabbed a regular spoon from the dish rack before taking the plate, the spoon, and the wooden spoon over to the table and sitting down.

"Here," Cas said, pointing to the floor at his feet when Dean started to sit down at the table.

"Really?" Dean asked, not fighting it so much as surprised.

Cas didn't say anything. He just took a spoonful of food and blew over it, cooling it before he took a bite.

"Okay," Dean said, letting out a huff of laughter, then going to his knees at Cas' feet. "But I know what you're doing."

Cas grunted, as if he really didn't give a shit, then cooled a spoonful of the casserole for Dean.

"Not only does this emphasize our relationship," Dean said, waiting patiently, "but it forces me to depend on you instead of thinking I get the say."

Cas held the spoon up to Dean's lips, allowing Dean to take a bite. He didn't bother saying anything.

"Y'know, I've been through the psych courses," Dean said. "And even before that, Mom and Dad made sure we knew a lot of this shit. Well, besides the stuff we saw watching them interact over the years."

Cas gave him another spoonful of food. "Then you know why I've set this here," he said, moving the wooden spoon to the edge of the table. It was thick and strong, the handle coated in plastic for a better grip.

Dean winced, most likely just realizing what it was for. "I was hoping it was for the food, but yeah, _now_ I know why it's there."

"You said I can have whatever I want," Cas said, wiping some food from Dean's bottom lip with his thumb. "I want to hurt you. Want to make you squirm."

Dean took another bite. "I know who you are," he said softly. "You don't have to hammer in the lesson."

"I've already forgiven you for the temper tantrum," Cas said.

Dean pulled away from the next spoonful of food. "I was pissed before, but in all the time I've known you, I've never forgotten who or what you are. I know you let me get away with a lot more than anybody else could, but I also have no doubt in my mind you're a serial killer. That if it wasn't for the CON, the only way we would've met was on your table, and I wouldn't have survived."

"And yet you _still_ mouthed off at me," Cas said, and really he wasn't all that upset over it. Not many people challenged him. Dean was right about that. Dean walked the very fine line between interesting and dead. "Nobody else who knows what I am has done that unless they were on my table and knew there was no hope of survival."

"Yeah, well, Sammy always was the smart one," Dean said, shrugging.

Cas smirked. "That right there is why I think you'll excel at gathering information from the public. You're charming and even _you_ don't realize how intelligent you are. It's not an act. You'll have a lot more doors opened to you because of that. People will tell you things they wouldn't tell me. I can lie, I can fake it, but anyone paying attention can easily see I'm watching more carefully than the average person."

"You think I'm char-ming," Dean sing-songed, grinning. "You think I'd make a good serial killer because I'm so cu-ute."

"I didn't say serial killer. I said gathering information from the public."

Dean frowned. "So you _don't_ think I'd be a good killer?"

"That remains to be seen," Cas said.

Dean rolled his eyes. "You've gotta let me work my own case and finish it before you can decide. You don't think I'd be good?"

"You read between the lines too much," Cas said, nudging the food against Dean's lips.

Dean turned his head away and pulled back. "Yeah, well, you think a hell of a lot, but not much comes out of your mouth. I _have_ to read between the lines," he said, body deflating a little. 

Cas pushed the plate away, about four or five spoonfuls of food left. "Can you read between the lines right now?" he asked, resting his left hand by the wooden spoon on the table.

Dean eyed the spoon and winced, quickly looking down at Cas' left knee. "I want something first," he said, then looked up at Cas.

Cas quirked an eyebrow. "Go ahead."

Dean tilted his head toward the wooden spoon. "I let you use that on me. Let you get off on hearing me cry and beg. First you have to tell me now long it took after we met for you to decide I was the right one for the job."

There were times Dean surprised Cas, and this was one of those times. He could've asked for any number of things. Things Cas might have said no to, but still he could've asked.

"A week and a half after you were assigned to me," Cas said, and he was tempted to leave it at that, but Dean was waiting patiently, hunger for more information in his eyes, in the way he sat up straighter. "I wanted a sandwich from that shitty little shop next to the CON, but I was having an off day and really didn't want to walk into the place. You didn't try to get me to go in with you. You didn't even flinch when I ordered you to go in and get me food. It seemed like it never even crossed your mind to tease me about it, though you didn't know anything at the time other than I was acting grumpy and wouldn't get out of the car."

Dean was quiet for a moment, then rested his forearms on Cas' knees, scooting a little closer between Cas' legs. "Why did that matter to you? I'm sure anybody else would've been too scared to tease you about that."

Cas' lips twitched into a small smile. "That's just it. You weren't scared of me. You read up on me, you observed me for the first few days we worked together, and even after that short amount of time, you went in and got food for me, but not because you were scared."

Dean smiled, looking down at Cas' belly for a moment. "I wasn't scared. I remember that. You were grumpy, but I knew it was because you had been dealing with interviews all day, and by then I'd already noticed you wear down more and more with each person you have to talk to about mundane things. I would've gotten you anything you wanted that day just to see the look on your face when I set the bags down between us in the truck and drove you home without saying anything."

"Well, that's when I knew you were the right man for the job," Cas said, shrugging. "It came hours after the first time I wanted to twist your balls until I came all over your ass."

Dean blinked at him for a moment. "Wait. What?!" His eyes widened and a little of that fire in Dean's eyes came back. It made something in Cas' chest ache. Something he wanted to ignore.

Cas picked up the wooden spoon and sat back, gesturing toward the table with the spoon. "Get over the table and pull the sweat pants down."

"But I wanna hear the rest of that story!" Dean nearly whined.

"I gave you more than you asked for," Cas said, tapping the spoon on Dean's left arm. "I'll make sure you get off too."

Dean let out an indignant huff. "But I wanna know the rest!"

"Do you want to trade?" Cas asked, smirking. "The rest of the story for an orgasm?"

Dean sat back on his heels. "Nah. I wanna come. And I know I'll be able to get the rest of the story out of you one of these days."

"You sound very confident," Cas said.

Dean nodded. "Yup."

"Over the table," Cas said firmly. "I want to give you a spanking."

Dean sighed, but he stood up before bending over the table, resting his chest on the surface and reaching back to pull the sweat pants down over the curve of his ass, letting the elastic catch just under his ass cheeks.

"Like this?" Dean asked, folding his arms underneath his chin, resting his head.

Cas scooted around behind Dean, chair scraping loudly on the tile floor. Dean squirmed, most likely not expecting Cas to remain seated, his ass right in Cas' face. Cas snapped the spoon down on Dean's right ass cheek, watching as Dean clenched and forced himself to stay in position.

"Spread your legs," Cas said, smacking the inside of Dean's left leg.

"Hey!" Dean yelped, but did as he was told.

"Problem?" Cas asked.

"I was just thinking about the definition of a spanking," Dean said, petulance in his tone of voice.

Cas smiled as he brought the spoon down on Dean's left ass cheek. Dean couldn't see his face, so he didn't have to worry about the smile. "And that is?"

"Well, doesn't it usually involve a hand and an ass?" Dean asked. "Why call it a spanking if you're using a wooden spoon on my thighs?"

Cas stood up. "Stay," he said, then walked out of the kitchen, smirking when he heard Dean let out a huff. He came back in with Dean's phone and set it down on the table by Dean's head. "Give me the definition as a verb."

"Seriously?" Dean asked, then yelped as Cas smacked his inner left thigh with the spoon. "Okay, okay! I'm looking!"

Cas sat back down and smacked Dean's right outer thigh, then his right ass cheek, enjoying the pink blush of Dean's skin.

"I'm looking!" Dean said.

Cas ignored him and instead gave Dean a particularly hard swat on the sit spot of his left ass cheek.

"Okay! I've got it!" Dean blurted.

"Go ahead," Cas said, smacking the same spot.

"Ow! Fuck, dude," Dean complained, wriggling in place. "Spank, the verb definition is-ow! Hey, I'm reading!"

Cas gave him another quick smack on the ass. "Keep reading."

"To strike a person-ah, ow," Dean said, clenching his ass as he shifted from foot to foot, trying to ease the pain, "with the open hand-ow! Fuck! A-ow! A slipper, et cetera, especial-ow! Especially on the buttocks, as in-ow! As in punishment! That's it! I read it all!"

" _Especially_ on the buttocks," Cas said. "That means it's not limited to the buttocks."

"Yeah, I get it now-ow!" Dean whined, chest lifting off the table as he reached back and rubbed at his ass with his right hand.

"No touching," Cas said, then smacked Dean's hand, almost chuckling when Dean quickly pulled his hand away. "And put your chest back down on the table."

"So when do I get to spank _you_?" Dean asked, a bit of grumpiness in his voice.

"Maybe I'll let you as a birthday present," Cas said, then smacked Dean again.

"Really?" Dean asked, looking over his shoulder at Cas, the expression on his face adorably hopeful.

"If you put your hand back here again, I'll tie you up and leave you in the tub for a hour," Cas said. "Understood?"

The color drained from Dean's face faster than Cas thought it would. "Uhm, yeah. Understood," he said, then folded his arms under him and rested his chin again.

"You don't have to worry about being too loud, but keep position," Cas said, then stood up.

"I'm sorry I asked about spanking you," Dean said, and it was a genuine apology, not a snarky statement.

"This isn't because you asked," Cas said. "In fact, I like getting spanked."

"Oh, okay," Dean said, body relaxing just a bit.

"This is because I want to see your ass turn red," Cas said, voice low as he watched Dean's cheeks jiggle with the spanks.

"Okay," Dean said, then took a cleansing breath.

Cas rested his left hand on Dean's lower back, not so much holding Dean down as reassuring him. He'd read Dean's files and knew him well enough that he figured it would be just what Dean needed.

"Ow! Oh, fuck, Cas!" Dean yelled as Cas started spanking him even harder than before with the spoon. "C-Cas! Cas, I'm sorry!"

"This isn't a punishment," Cas said, spanking as Dean reached out and grabbed hold of the far edge of the table, wrapping his fingers around it in an attempt to keep position.

Dean's forehead thumped down onto the table and Dean let out a whimper that had nothing to do with his forehead. He went up on his toes, then back down again and bent his knees, tucking his ass in and trying to get away from the pain.

"Cas! I can't stay like this!" Dean cried out, going up on his toes again. "Please don't-ow! Please don't put me in the tub again! I can't-ow! I-ow, fuck!"

"You can stay in position," Cas said.

"No, Cas, I can't!" Dean whined, hips twisting this way and that.

"Did you know that I can come just from the sound of someone screaming?" Cas asked as he paused long enough to grab his very erect cock and smack it down on Dean's left ass cheek.

"I can scream as much as you want," Dean blurted. "You don't have to use the spoon on me. I'll just scream for you!"

"It's not the same," Cas said, then started spanking Dean again, this time hitting the sit spots of Dean's ass. "People think they can fake it, but they really can't."

"Ow! Oh, fuck, ow! Ow! Cas, wait! Oh! Cas! Cas!" Dean yelled, his right foot knocking into the leg of the table. "Cas, please! It really fuckin' hurts! Cas!"

Cas gave him one more hard smack, and then Cas was coming as Dean cried out, tears in his voice and his body stiff as he squirmed beneath Cas' cock. Cas flopped down onto the kitchen chair and ran the fingers of his left hand over Dean's sore skin. Dean sniffled, and Cas' cock twitched at the sound while Dean tried to control his breathing.

Dean sniffled again and wiped at his face, but stayed in position. Cas pulled the plate back over and pushed the plastic handle through the food, then spread Dean's ass cheeks. Dean gasped as Cas inserted the handle of the spoon, the ridges catching on his rim.

"Did you just use casserole as lube?" Dean asked, and Cas could hear a little bit of amusement and some surprise in Dean's voice.

"It's better than going in dry," Cas said nonchalantly as he fucked Dean's hole with the handle.

"Wouldn't the jizz on my back work better?" Dean asked, looking over his shoulder at Cas, eyes red-rimmed and watery.

"Are you complaining?" Cas asked, then leaned forward and licked around Dean's asshole, catching the excess food from the wooden spoon.

Dean moaned, relaxing against the table. "No," he said. "Definitely not complaining."

Cas lazily fucked Dean with the spoon, watching as the ridges disappeared inside Dean, then reappeared, Dean's asshole clenching around the handle. Cas pulled the spoon out, then stood up.

"Clean up the kitchen, then come to my room," he said, giving Dean's ass a light pat before he set the spoon down on the table and walked out of the kitchen.

"I thought you said I'd get to come!" Dean said, not so much bitching Cas out as firmly reminding Cas about it.

"Day's not over yet," Cas said over his shoulder.

He heard Dean grumbling, but he couldn't make out the words, and he crawled into bed, feeling more relaxed than he had felt since his last kill. He heard Dean washing the dishes and puttering around in the kitchen, and soon Dean was walking into the bedroom. Instead of waiting for an invitation, he climbed into bed, the sweat pants and shirt still on.

"I'm going to fuck you," Cas said as he reached over and grabbed the lube from his bedside table drawer. "It usually takes me longer to come the second time, but your ass is all warm from your spanking, so I don't think it'll take me very long."

Dean frowned. "I said I'm not just gonna give it to you."

Cas chuckled. "You're in my bed, your dick's hard, and you just moaned and writhed all over the kitchen table as I fucked you with a wooden spoon. You already gave it to me."

Dean sat up. "No, I didn't."

"No?"

Dean shook his head. "I"m not just a toy. I stayed even after you left me tied up in the tub, and I wanna know that I'm forgiven."

"You are," Cas said, nodding.

"You already said that, but I want you to say it like you mean it," Dean said. "It freaks me the fuck out, and if this gets thrown back in my face-"

"It won't get thrown in your face," Cas interrupted. "You were punished for your behavior, and I forgive you for the temper tantrum. I meant it before and I mean it now."

Dean's eyes welled up with tears, but he shook it off. "Okay, and I wanna come," he said firmly.

Cas nodded. "I told you that you could come," he said as he pushed Dean back, then pulled on his legs, sending Dean down and flat on his back.

Dean huffed as he tried to sit up. "No, wait!" he said, sounding a little frustrated as he slid back and leaned against the headboard. "I want you to kiss me," he said, eyes intense, "and I want you here with me, not just fucking me."

Cas sighed, sitting back on his heels. "I told you this isn't hearts and flowers, Dean."

"I'm not asking for hearts and flowers," Dean said. "I'm demanding that you treat me like a person instead of a toy."

Cas saw the fear in Dean's eyes, the way he was holding himself, ready to leave if Cas didn't agree, but also scared that he'd have to follow through even though he didn't want to leave.

"You agreed to my rules," Cas said, not an ounce of warmth in his voice. If Dean didn't get it after spending the last five years being Cas' Handler, then perhaps this wasn't going to work out after all.

"And I still do," Dean said cautiously. "But within those rules I want some consideration, and I deserve it. I'm not one of your kills strapped to a table."

"I've never fucked a kill," Cas said.

Dean's face flushed with anger, but then he visibly calmed himself. "I know that. And I know you know what I'm asking for, you're just trying to keep that distance because you think I'm gonna fall head over heels in love with you and I'll be asking for picnics in the park and holding hands while we walk along the beach, but this is me, Cas. I'm here, I've done everything you've asked of me, and I'm still here after being punished the way you did."

"Putting you in the tub-"

"Yeah," Dean interrupted, "I know what you were doing. It came through loud and clear that you weren't happy with the temper tantrum, but I've been forgiven. You said so yourself."

"You are," Cas said with a quick nod.

Dean sighed, looking Cas in the eye. "Please, Cas," he whispered.

Cas rolled Dean over, ignoring the way Dean's body became stiff as a board and instead leaning down and placing a kiss on Dean's left shoulder blade.

Dean's body relaxed and he let out a huff of laughter. "Okay, yeah, I suppose I'll let you get away with it. You don't have to look me in the eye, but you're still doing what I asked."

"You done?" Cas asked as he kissed a line down Dean's spine.

"Yeah," Dean said, grabbing the pillow and wrapping his arms around it, his chin resting on it.

Cas straddled Dean's legs and he pulled the sweat pants down, impressed by the color of Dean's ass. He traced the darker areas of red, then leaned down and ran his tongue over the skin.

"Feels good," Dean said, then moaned as Cas pushed a lubed finger into his hole.

He'd recently been fucked with the handle of the spatula, so he was still a little loose, but Cas took the time to stretch him before giving him another kiss at the small of his back and pushing his cock into Dean, slow and gentle.

"I still wanna come," Dean reminded him.

Cas pushed the T-shirt up Dean's back, bunching it under Dean's arms. "What's this from?" he asked as he licked a scar running diagonally about two inches away from Dean's spine. It was only about three inches long, old and healed.

"Fell out of the treehouse when I was nine," Dean said. "A branch caught me on the way down."

"And this?" Cas asked, then kissed a roughened area of skin on Dean's left ribcage, on his side.

"When I was fifteen, Sam whined about how much time I was spending with my friends and not him," Dean said. "So I told him we would do whatever he wanted to do while Mom and Dad were gone for the weekend on a job. Sam wanted to build a rocket, so we did, but then it blew up. When it exploded, I turned and covered Sam, and a piece of the rocket poked into my side."

Cas slowly fucked Dean, just enjoying Dean's stories and the way his ass clenched around his cock. "And this?" Cas asked as he ran a finger over a raised line of red just above his right ass cheek. It was obviously a newer scar, about two inches long.

"I don't know why you're asking me," Dean said. "You know about all these things that happened to me because you've read my files."

Cas sighed, his hips coming to a stop. People were frustrating. He was trying and Dean was still giving him a hard time. "Do you _want_ me to treat you like a toy? I liked hearing it from you even though I've read it all. The detail of you shielding Sam wasn't in the report, but it was something I suspected. Now I know."

"Lemme up," Dean said, wriggling beneath him.

Cas wanted to strangle him, but instead he climbed off Dean, cock still hard. "I don't know what you want," he said as Dean got to his knees and turned around on the bed. "I don't-," he started, but then Dean was kissing him, cupping his face with his hands and kissing him.

Cas closed his eyes, a little surprised by how soft Dean's lips were. It felt good, and he relaxed, letting Dean control the kiss. He moaned when Dean tentatively pushed his tongue against Cas' lips, and then Dean was pushing his way in, surging forward and pulling Cas closer. And then Dean was gone. Cas opened his eyes, finding Dean smiling at him.

"It's supposed to be fun," Dean said, shrugging. "You always look at things so... I don't know. It's like you take everything apart and put it back together, like it's a model airplane, but you don't bother to play with it once it's finished."

"I don't understand what this has to do with a model airplane," Cas said, frowning, lips still tingling.

"Stop categorizing everything about me," Dean said, explaining instead of complaining. "You already know how to take me apart and put me back together again. Now's when you have fun and play with me."

Cas opened his mouth, but he didn't know how to reply to what Dean had said. He felt lost and he didn't like it.

"C'mere," Dean said, smiling as he grabbed Cas by the arms and pushed him down onto the bed. He wriggled out of the sweat pants and tossed them onto the floor, then tugged the shirt off as he straddled Cas.

Cas let out a moan as Dean sank down onto Cas' cock and started riding him. It was different. It was weird. He'd never let anyone else control sex before. Not that he'd never been fucked or ridden, but it was on his terms, and he was calling the shots.

"Look at me," Dean said as he took Cas' right hand and put it on his own cock. "Make me come while I'm riding you."

Cas started stroking, noticing that Dean only had a partial erection. He looked Dean in the eye, but he felt raw, too open, too vulnerable. It also felt so good to have Dean on top of him. And Dean looked so fucking sexy, his body moving in a way that made Cas' hands itch with the desire to touch and hold.

Dean grinned. "You're still thinking too much," he said, then leaned down and bit Cas' left nipple.

It was too much, so Cas rolled them, Dean letting out a grunt as his back hit the bed, but then he was kissing Dean, fucking into him as he held him down and pushed his tongue into Dean's mouth, whimpering.

Dean wrapped his legs around Cas, and Cas fucked him harder, the headboard smacking into the wall as he bit Dean's lip and licked into his mouth. He reached between them and started rubbing his thumb over the bundle of nerves underneath the head of Dean's cock, their bellies pressed against each other and making it impossible to stroke Dean properly.

Cas was already so close to the edge, and he didn't want to draw it out. He wanted to fill Dean up with his release, make Dean's freshly-spanked skin ache with the rough treatment, and he wanted Dean to cry out his name as he came.

Dean whimpered into Cas' mouth, then pulled back, eyes opening wide as his body tensed. "Cas! Oh, f-fuck, Cas!" he yelled as his cock jerked in Cas' hand.

Cas didn't even try to stop himself. He fucked Dean so hard that Dean was grunting, and then Cas was coming, burying his cock as deep as he could and growling as he looked Dean in the eye.

It took him a few long moments to realize Dean was a little too wide-eyed. A little too quiet. "What's wrong?" Cas asked, balls pleasantly tingling.

"Nothin', Cas. Just... I just like the way you're looking at me. The way your eyes...," he said, then shook his head and smiled. "Nothin'."

Cas pulled out, then dropped onto the bed to Dean's right. He pulled a hand towel out of the bedside table drawer, then gently wiped between Dean's ass cheeks before tossing it onto the floor on top of the discarded sweat pants and shirt.

Dean flipped the blanket over both of them, and before Cas could grumble about it, Dean tossed a leg and an arm over Cas, snuggling up to him and using his arm as a pillow.

It felt good. The warmth, the weight, the calmness that settled over both of them. Cas fell asleep before Dean did.


	9. Chapter 9

Castiel didn't really want to catch Eiker. He'd told Dean the truth when he'd said Eiker was beautiful when he killed. Nobody knew who he was and the guy was very meticulous, which meant the basement where he killed his victims was a serial killer's playground. The houses in his area were few and far between, and the surrounding neighbors knew him to be a nice guy who supported every bake sale at the local elementary school even though he didn't have kids, and he volunteered at the soup kitchen once a week and on holidays.

Eiker was careful about who he took, what time of day he took them, and he never repeated his patterns. He didn't seem to mind driving even hundreds of miles to pick up a victim. No wonder the police and FBI hadn't been able to find him, only his kills.

Cas slid into his hiding spot at the back of the house, bushes around the basement window serving as camouflage. Eiker hadn't even blacked out his windows at the back of the house. He didn't need to because no one suspected a thing. His house was beautiful, yard immaculate, and no one in town had anything bad to say about him.

Eiker was dragging his latest victim to the middle of the basement, a fistful of blonde hair the only thing keeping the twenty-something victim from running away. He'd already stripped the guy, and there were a few bruises forming on the guy's arms, legs, and back.

Cas didn't know who the victim was, but if he had to guess, it was a hitchhiker. The guy had shoulder-length hair, a little scruff on his face, and his clothes appeared to need a good washing, though they were piled on the floor by the stairs. There was a duffel bag close to the clothes, which confirmed Cas' suspicions. The guy had probably just found the wrong stranger offering a ride.

Cas couldn't hear them, but when he had a good view of their faces, he could read their lips.

"No! Please! I-I don't know what you want!" the man yelled, eyes wide as he flailed and twisted about.

It didn't stop Eiker from getting the man onto the stainless steel table bolted to the floor. And it didn't stop him from breaking the man's left ankle. After the man stopped screaming, he had less fight in him, and Eiker easily flipped him onto his stomach and wrapped a length of rope around his neck, tying it to the end of the table and keeping the man in place.

"I'll give you anything you want," the man said, sobbing. "I don't know what you want, but I'll get it for you. Just let me go. Please let me go."

Eiker picked up a ball peen hammer, turned the domed side down, and hit his victim's back. Cas imagined the sound of the crunch. He knew exactly what it sounded like. When Eiker moved aside, Cas could tell by the placement the right scapula had been shattered, rendering the victim's right arm mostly useless without puncturing his lung.

The man screamed for a while, body twitching with shock, but he wasn't struggling anymore. Eiker set his hammer down on the workbench, then grabbed a long piece of pipe and walked around to the far side of the table, giving Cas a good view of what was happening.

It was then that he realized Eiker wasn't turned on at all. He wasn't angry or sad. He wasn't fascinated or excited. His eyes were dead, dispassionate, and clinical. Cas hadn't seen him sexually assault the other two victims he'd killed since he'd been watching Eiker, so he hadn't known until Eiker slowly shoved the rusty pipe into his latest victim's asshole that this was all an experiment for Eiker.

He wasn't seeking vengeance for traumas in his childhood or recreating scenarios over and over again that helped him work through his pain. He wasn't getting off on any of it either. He was simply observing the human reactions to stimuli. Something Cas knew a little about himself.

Growing up as someone who didn't feel things the same way other kids did, experimenting became something that helped Cas figure people out. The cause and effect was something he needed, and even though Cas had been killing for years, it was still part of what he enjoyed about it.

Eiker was that rare mix of sociopath and psychopath like Cas was. He had emotions, he had a conscience, but he could manipulate and distance himself when and if he wanted to, and he could easily control himself, organize his thoughts and actions.

Cas had the final piece of his puzzle and was ready to go home, get some rest, then come back the next night and pick Eiker up. He knew how to deal with him, what would get to Eiker the most when he had him on his table, and it could wait until Eiker was alone.

As he drove home, Cas checked his phone, frowning when he saw nothing from Dean. He tossed the phone onto the seat next to him. Perhaps Dean had gone to bed early and wasn't up worrying about him. That was fine with Cas.

Cas was irritated. He wasn't concerned. Really. He'd left five messages after his first ten texts hadn't been answered. He was ready to pick Eiker up, but he couldn't if Dean wasn't backing him up. The CON would have his hide if he tried it without Dean.

He grabbed his jacket and got in his vehicle, heading for Dean's house. He was angry, and the closer he got to Dean's house, the angrier he got. He wasn't mad _at_ Dean. He was upset because it had been three days since he'd had any contact with him, and he knew Dean would never have let it go if he'd lost contact with Cas for three full days.

It wasn't all that unusual. Cas was a private person, Dean knew that, and he wouldn't push. But Dean _never_ missed a pickup on a target. He was _never_ unavailable for days at a time.

Cas pulled into the driveway and used the extra garage door opener that Dean had given him five years earlier. As the door opened, his stomach clenched. Dean's car was there in the garage. Dean was home, and he would never ignore Cas if he was just sitting around his house. Not when Cas had been trying to reach him since that morning.

The garage door wasn't locked, and Cas stormed in, coming to a stop in the kitchen when he saw the overturned chair and the blood stains on the floor. It was a small amount. Not enough to even cause any symptoms, but it shouldn't have been there.

Cas headed for the stairs and took them two at a time. Dean's room was empty, and so was his bathroom and spare bedroom. Cas ran back downstairs and into the living room, where nothing was out of place. Dean wasn't as fussy as Cas about keeping things tidy, but he had his own method to his mess.

And then Cas saw the paper on the coffee table. A white piece of eight by eleven paper that had elegant handwriting on it. Handwriting that Cas recognized immediately, his heart racing and his feet moving before he even fully realized what he was doing.

He picked up the paper and stared at it for a moment, taking in every bit of information before reading it. The light smudge of pencil shavings in the top right corner, the way the paper had been folded into thirds before being opened up again and left on the table, the bottom left corner a little worn from where _he_ had played with it absently while coming up with what he wanted to say to Castiel.

> _I taught you better than this. Connections make you vulnerable, and vulnerability would be your downfall. You'll thank me one day. Until then you should be able to find a suitable replacement. He's a bright boy, but he certainly isn't anything unique. Take care, Castiel._
> 
> _One's days were too brief to take the burden of another's errors on one's shoulders. Each man lived his own life and paid his own price for living it. -Oscar Wilde_

Castiel held the paper up to his nose, the scent of Sichuan Gongfu tea tickling his nose. That odd combination of light spices and sweetness of the tea with just a hint of jasmine that Cas remembered from years ago.

He folded up the paper, put it in the breast pocket of his coat, then made his way back through the kitchen, taking a quick look for anything that had been left behind, but not expecting anything. Cas huffed with frustration, finding nothing because of course his mentor was too good to leave anything behind.

Cas left through the garage, getting into his SUV and pulling his phone out. He hit speed dial, but didn't wait, instead turning the key in the ignition, the tires squealing on the blacktop as he sped toward his home.

"Castiel?" Sam asked, confused tone to his voice. He was right to be confused by Cas actually calling him. It was something Cas never did, never would do. Unless it was an emergency.

"I need you to help me," Cas said, choosing his words carefully. "I can't answer any questions, and this needs to be done without leaving breadcrumbs behind. I need information, but it can't go through the CON, and they can't know I'm asking."

"Does this have to do with Dean?" Sam asked, worried.

"Sam," Cas nearly growled.

"Sorry, I'm sorry," Sam said, and Cas could hear papers shuffling in the background. "Whatever you need, I'll do my best."

"I need you to send me a list of all the stores in a one hundred mile radius that sell Sichuan Gongfu tea," Cas said.

"That's it?" Sam asked.

"No," Cas said, turning down his street. "That's just the first thing I need. I'll call you back when I'm at my desk."

"Okay," Sam said.

Cas pulled into his garage, turned off the SUV but left the keys in the ignition, and went straight to his office. He sat down at his desk and put the phone down to his right, then called Sam again. 

"Anything yet?" he asked before Sam even had a chance to answer. 

"It's a really unusual kind of tea around here, so-"

"Sam, I don't have time to discuss things," Cas interrupted.

"Sorry, there's only nine stores, three of them being Chinese restaurant supply stores," Sam said.

"Send me the list in an email," Cas said. "Next I need you to run a deep search under your mother's name for murders within five hundred miles of here. The victims need to have a very tiny line of five stitches on the insides of their right cheeks along with massive trauma to the abdominal area. Most likely the autopsies didn't determine the weapon used to do it, and some reports might describe it as an animal attack."

"A-anything else," Sam said, voice cracking with shock.

"Male victims will have very small holes around the urethral opening, and if the person performing the autopsy knew what they were doing, they'll realize the urethra had been stitched shut and the stitches taken out postmortem," Cas said. "Female victims' vaginas will have been stitched closed using the outer labia and both sexes will have had their anus stitched closed."

"Oh, fuck," Sam breathed. "Okay, uhm, what else?"

"Your mother is going to know we've accessed the information using her account," Cas said. "When your parents get a hold of you, tell them to create a dummy case and change the details I've just told you about. No one else is to know about those details. Understood?"

"Yes," Sam said, and Cas could hear Sam's fingers on the keyboard.

"Once they've done that, you need to check it," Cas said, putting a little growl into his voice. "I need your word that you'll check the information."

"I-I will," Sam said. "I promise."

"After you've verified the information has been changed," Cas continued, "you'll tell Mary and John I'm recovering Dean."

"Shit," Sam hissed, something crashing in the background. "Oh, shit, Castiel. Shit! You've gotta-"

"Calm down," Cas said firmly, interrupting Sam. "You can't help Dean if you're freaking out."

Sam took a few deep breaths. "I'm okay. I'm okay. Sorry. I'm okay. I'll do whatever you want me to do."

"I've met your parents, and Dean has told them a lot about me," Cas said. "They're going to have to follow my lead on this. Convince them it's for Dean and I know what and who I'm dealing with. Tell them it has to do with how I got my nickname from Dean."

"Hot Wings?" Sam blurted out, then choked a little. "Sorry. I'll shut up."

"When I'm certain I've found Ruslan, I'll send you the location," Cas said. "Give that information to your parents because I'd like them to back me up."

"Okay," Sam said. "Anything else?"

"Stay calm," Cas said, forcing serenity into his voice to soothe Sam. "Ruslan kept his victims alive for five to fifteen days depending on how much he liked them. Dean's only been out of contact with me for three days. We'll get him back, but you need to use your head right now."

"Okay," Sam said, fingers working over the keyboard again. "I'm okay. I won't let you down, Cas."

"I know you won't," Cas said, then ended the call.

An email from Sam was already waiting in his inbox, so he opened it, pleased when he realized Sam had not only given him the names of the stores, but also their locations, phone numbers, and a link to Google Maps for each one, allowing Cas to get an aerial view of the properties.

Cas made calls to all nine stores, asking about their full selection of imported teas instead of asking directly for Sichuan Gongfu tea in case Ruslan had made arrangements with the shopkeepers. Only five of the locations were still in business, and out of those only two imported Sichuan Gongfu tea.

After bringing up both shops on the aerial view, he immediately ruled out the first shop because it was next to a pet store, which left only J & E Restaurant Supply. It wasn't only Chinese imports, but they had a full selection. It was right in the middle of Fresno, and Cas could make it in about three and a half hours if he left Santa Monica before morning traffic hit.

Cas printed out the information he needed, then grabbed his large canvas duffel bag from his closet before heading out to his kill room. He carefully chose his weapons and equipment, and just over an hour later he was showering, changing, and packing the SUV.

He pulled another set of clothes out of his special drawer just before leaving. Everything was wrapped in plastic, including black jeans, a black long-sleeved shirt, underwear, black socks, and black work boots. It had all been washed in scent-free detergent and kept fresh in the vacuum-sealed bags.

It was three in the morning before Cas finally left the house, but the streets were relatively clear, and that's all Cas needed to make good time.

He really didn't want to find a new Handler. That was the only reason he was hurrying, speed pushing the limits. That's all. It wasn't because Dean meant anything to him.

Cas dropped his duffel bag on the bed in the Super 8 Hotel, a shitty place that was less than a mile away from the restaurant supply shop. He never stayed in more than a three-star hotel or motel. Nothing to draw attention to himself, and the people who stayed at those places weren't nosy because they were too busy hiding their own sins.

He pulled out his laptop and set it on the tiny table in the corner of the room before draping his jacket on the chair and sitting down. Sam had sent him more info while he was driving, but Cas didn't need to kill himself on the way to save Dean, so he'd left it for when he was in the hotel.

Ruslan was predictable in his own way. It wasn't a way anyone else would understand unless they knew him, which had worked in his favor for decades. But Cas knew him. He knew him well.

> **Statement Summary**
> 
> **Case #:** WF-20120404-7C88F  
>  **Date of Loss:** February 4, 2016
> 
> **Name:** Baker, Briana  
>  **Date of Birth:** December 8, 1988  
>  **Height:** 64 inches  
>  **Weight:** 120 pounds  
>  **Hair:** Brown  
>  **Eyes:** Brown
> 
> **Discovery Notes:** Body discovered by Martin Reyes, located five feet from the west gate of the Fresno Chaffee Zoo. No security footage available due camera damage earlier in the week and scheduled to be repaired February 12, 2016.
> 
> Reyes stated he walked the grounds every night before final lockdown and lights off. Reyes' shift ended at midnight, and he discovered the body at eleven forty-five. Reyes stated the victim was lying on her back, but he didn't call for help because it appeared she was passed out or sleeping. The victim was fully clothed in a summer dress, white socks, and flat shoes. Her hair was styled and make-up had been applied.
> 
> Reyes stated he "didn't know there was anything seriously wrong" until he crouched beside the body and shook her arm. Reyes stated the body was stiff and cold, and there were no traces of blood anywhere, including her clothing.
> 
> **Coroner's Findings:** Time of death estimated twenty four to twenty eight hours before discovery. Significant findings included small puncture wounds in the skin of the oral cavity, the vaginal labia, and the anus. Unclear findings. Unclear weapon, though suspect hypodermic needle.
> 
> The abdominal cavity shows massive trauma and appears to be the cause of death. All vital organs accounted for. The entire abdominal cavity was opened and the skin shredded. Suspect animal attack, though no hair/fur, mucus, or damage to the internal organs consistent with animal attack save the stomach, which appeared to have burst due to high pressure or blunt trauma. Skin lacerations suggest rupture of the peritoneal cavity due to free peritoneal fluid. More detailed examination needed.
> 
> **Results:** Victim's family insisted the body be buried without extensive autopsy. Case marked massive trauma due to animal attack.

Cas looked over the few photos that were included, and he recognized everything that had been done to the woman, saw it for what it was, and moved onto the next victim, circling the zoo in red on his map.

A short time later he had six more victims, all killed on even months of the year and all of them had birth dates that included even numbers. Ruslan didn't always use even numbers. He fell into moods and decided on a project. Odd nicknames, people who liked raspberries, people who owned an orange vehicle, or any number of random reasons for a group of killings. All random patterns that required taking a step back to see the big picture.

Ruslan also didn't stay in one place. Cas guessed that he had someplace close, but it wouldn't be the only shelter he was using, especially if the killings Cas was looking at were stretched over the course of two years.

Cas pulled his map over everything else in front of him and let his eyes scan the area casually. Ruslan was bold and clever, but he was also paranoid and had quirks. He liked being just outside the city, and the Sierra National Forest wasn't that far away. Cas read over the names of the smaller places on the map.

Bertz Mill, Shaver Lake, Ockenden, Matthews Mill, Alder Springs, Meadow Lakes, Rock Haven, Dinkey Creek, Camp Sierra, Huntington Lake, Big Creek, Eagle Peek.

Cas frowned, looking at Huntington Lake, then back at the rest of the names. Huntington Lake was the only place that had both an even number of letters and the first letter of each word was an even number in the alphabet, the H being number eight and L being number twelve.

It was about sixty miles from the supply store and would take about an hour and a half to drive, more if there was traffic. Ruslan would consider it a safe distance, and he'd be able to stay at any of the resorts around the lake.

Lakeshore Resort. Even-numbered letters again, and it was closed in the summer time. It had secluded cabins.

Cas considered waiting. If Ruslan was anything like he used to be, Dean would be uncomfortable but still alive and mostly healthy for at least two more days. Cas could wait until J & E Restaurant Supply was open and talk to the owner. He could talk to some of the locals.

Ruslan could also step up his timetable because of who he'd taken. The coincidences were too strong, and if Cas drove all the way to the resort and found nothing, he'd still have the rest of the day to talk to the locals.

Cas took a cleansing breath and went into the bathroom. He reviewed everything in his head as he peed and washed his hands, then pulled a bottle of water from his duffel bag and threw himself down on the bed, draining half the bottle.

He couldn't afford to rush in. Dean didn't deserve a sloppy job. Ruslan himself had taught Cas better. The very reason the CON existed was because emotions equaled mistakes and unnecessary deaths. As much as he wanted to charge in and get Dean back, it might get Dean killed.

Cas looked at the clock and let out a sigh. Four thirty in the morning and still hours away from the shop opening. It wouldn't hurt to at least check out the area. Making a decision, Cas put a switchblade in the right pocket of his jeans, buckled a hunting knife in a holster at his left hip, and took the bag of zip ties from the duffel bag. He was on the road with his phone and map within minutes.


	10. Chapter 10

The cabins all looked alike, but Cas didn't even bother checking the ones closer to the water or any that had a view of the road. He was as silent as he could be, making his way to each of the cabins that Ruslan would potentially call a hideout. He didn't find any vehicles, but Ruslan was careful, and he also didn't mind parking his vehicle sometimes even miles away from his shelter. He was athletic and loved hiking anyway.

Cas checked his watch. He'd been carefully searching the cabins, but it was getting closer to sun up, which was around seven in August. He had another hour and a half before that would happen, but he wasn't finding anything, and his gut was telling him he was wrong, that he wasn't close to Ruslan's hideout.

He made his way back to the SUV, quiet and watchful even though he was nearly certain Ruslan wasn't around, and drove back to town, disappointment warring with a little bit of worry in his chest. It was a feeling he hadn't had many times in his life, and he didn't like it.

J & E Restaurant Supply had been a bust. Sure, they carried the tea, but casually mentioning his interest in large amounts of it revealed nothing but surprise on their faces and a comment about how no one had ever ordered even a full case of that particular tea before.

Cas flopped back onto the motel room bed, annoyed and restless. He was tired, and he didn't feel like looking at his laptop. He didn't want to deal with Sam and the fear in the man's voice. He didn't want to deal with both a Cleaner and a Handler who had chosen to have children even though it was dangerous and their children could be used against them. He didn't want to hear the pain in John's voice or the intensity in Mary's.

He dozed for about two hours before getting out of bed and showering. He usually thought a lot in the shower, because what else was there to do really. He let his mind wander back, years ago to when he'd been with Ruslan. He usually didn't think about it much other than when he remembered some of the lessons Ruslan had taught him.

> _You can't form attachments. That's not what we do._  
>  \- cold brown eyes that see so much more than what's on the surface -
> 
> _I thought you said you didn't let anybody else in your kill room with you?_  
>  \- keeping the petulance out of his voice, because that's not what you do either -
> 
> \- a careless shrug -  
>  _I haven't. But that doesn't mean I like you._  
>  _It doesn't mean I'm going to care at all if someone kidnaps you and cuts you until you bleed out._
> 
> _Oh._  
>  \- looking down at the blood-stained floor -  
>  _Okay._
> 
> _Look, I'm trying to help you, kid._  
>  \- shoving the severed limb into a large plastic bag -  
>  _You asked for my help. Rule number one is no attachments._  
>  \- a severed finger is tossed into the bag to join the severed limb -  
>  _Suck it up, follow the rules, and nobody can hurt you._
> 
> \- squaring of the shoulders, straightening of the stance, and a little more stubbornness in those blue eyes -  
>  _Okay. No attachments._  
>  _Rule number one._

He'd allowed himself to get too concerned, and that wouldn't help Dean. He usually talked to more people than he had so far, and he needed to change that. He needed to be there for Dean in a way the police and everybody else couldn't. He needed to be a Cleaner, not a civilian. That meant the focus wasn't Dean, it was Ruslan.

Castiel dressed and went to the motel office, kicking himself for not having done it earlier. The day manager was drinking a cup of coffee and blinking away the sleep in her eyes as Cas walked in.

"Can I help you?" the woman asked, heavy smoker's voice that made her even more charming.

Her name was Allison, but she preferred Allie. Cas remembered as much from the conversation he'd had with the night manager when he paid for the room.

"Yes, Allie, I hope you can," he said, smiling and using his pleasant tone of voice that usually got people talking. "My parents are lonely back where they are in Florida, and when they found out I'm vacationing here, they insisted on coming. The problem is they're into fishing and camping, and I'm not," he said, wincing to show how much he really didn't want to be roped into fishing with his parents. "Would you be able to suggest any cabins or camping areas close to here that are off the beaten path but not too rustic? I'll be staying here, but I still have to visit them while they're there," he said, forcing a quick shiver, as if the outdoors were too icky to get very close to.

Allie chuckled. "City boy, eh?" she said, then shook her head as she set her cup of coffee down on the counter between them. "Well, I can tell you Huntington Creek is one of my favorites, but they're shut down right now for the summer. Dinkey Creek is lovely this time of year, but it'll be packed."

"I'd rather not have to deal with families," Cas said, frowning.

"Oh!" Allie said, holding up a finger and reaching under the counter with her other hand. She pulled out a map and set it between them. "Right here is North Fork. Beautiful place. I know the couple that owns it and they've been complaining about how most of their cabins are empty because they remodeled recently and after they put the notice up on their website, nobody booked for the summer, probably thinking there would be construction through 'til next year. The area is gorgeous, there's fishing available, and the cabins aren't very expensive."

North Fork. N was the fourteenth letter of the alphabet and F was sixth. It would work. "Thank you, ma'am. My parents will probably love it. I can't thank you enough! You've saved me from getting chewed out by my mama," he said, smiling.

"You're welcome, sweetheart," she said, then pushed the map toward him. "You can keep this."

"Oh, thank you!" he said, flashing a charming smile at her and taking the map.

"I hope your parents enjoy themselves," Allie said.

"They will!" Cas said as he walked out the front door. "Thanks again, Allie!"

She waved before picking up her coffee and heading for the ancient computer at the front desk, lowering herself onto the chair that creaked so much Cas was surprised it hadn't dumped her on the floor after all these years.

Cas went back to his room and brought up North Fork on his laptop. The cabins were perfect. Small, cheap, few and far between, and the cabins had small kitchens, which would suit Ruslan's needs just fine.

He checked his email again and found another from Sam. It was more case files from the area. Cas didn't really need any more. He'd seen enough of them to confirm that Ruslan was in the general area. Murders in a one hundred mile radius with no recognizable pattern to local authorities who couldn't be bothered to do much investigating when animal attacks were so prevalent in the area.

Sam ended the email with a quick note, asking Cas to fill him in as soon as possible and that his parents were on stand-by. They'd already flown in from Oregon and were staying with Sam at his home. It would take a little over four hours to get to the cabins if they left when traffic was good, but it was eight o'clock, so that would slow them down some.

Cas scheduled an email reply to go out at four o'clock, telling Sam about North Fork. It gave Cas enough time to check out the cabins and pinpoint which one Ruslan was in, if he was there at all. If he found Ruslan, a text giving Sam the code to his phone would let Sam find his exact location with GPS. If he didn't find Ruslan, it was easy enough to cancel the email from his phone.

But Cas had a good feeling about North Fork, so he showered yet again, using an unscented soap and shampoo, then dressed in the vacuum-sealed clothing he pulled out of his duffel bag. He took the bag out to the SUV and took off for North Fork.

The area was quiet. A rusted blue '57 Chevy truck was parked outside the main cabin, but Cas avoided it, knowing the owners would be there. He had a map of the area, and again he kept away from cabins that had a view of the road or were too close to the main cabin.

After finding seven cabins empty, he came upon a two-story cabin with a porch overlooking a small creek. It was quiet and beautiful, lots of trees surrounding the it, and there was a black Ford truck parked in the dirt driveway.

The truck was most likely from the mid 90s. Not too new, not too old, and the bed of the truck had a cover with hydraulic lifts on either side. Cas didn't recognize the truck, but the last time he'd been with Ruslan the man drove a rusted old panel truck, and Cas didn't expect him to still have the same vehicle. Ruslan ditched vehicles whenever he could.

This truck was bland and nothing out of the ordinary unless someone knew Ruslan. Cas' stomach clenched when he saw the small cross hanging from the rearview mirror. Ruslan wasn't religious. In fact he hated all organized religion. The cross was there as a conversation starter and something that put people at ease, because surely a man with religious convictions strong enough to use God as a co-pilot wouldn't hurt anyone, and it was safe to accept a ride from him.

He took his phone out, forced the email to go through early, and sent Sam the code for his GPS. Sam sent him a confirmation seconds later, and Cas shut all sound and vibration off on the phone before putting it into a plastic bag and burying it under some leaves at the base of a tree near the creek.

There were windows on all sides of the house except the side facing north, where there was a small upstairs bathroom window and nothing else. The light was off, so Cas decided the north side was best. It conveniently had a stairway up to the first level of the porch, which then wrapped around and continued up to the second level.

Even though the cabin was set up to hold two families at a time, Cas had no doubt Ruslan rented both floors. He also had no doubt Ruslan was using the ground floor to hold Dean and the upper floor to keep a look out. He ran his fingers over the pocket of his jeans, checking to make sure the capped syringe was still there before moving.

Cas ignored the stairs leading up to the first level, and instead climbed the small hill to get to the deck, then waited, crouched down and listening for any sign Ruslan was inside. It didn't take long.

"No!"

It was Dean. Cas forced himself to stay still. This was about Ruslan, not Dean. Dean was alive. He was strong enough to bellow out his rage, which meant he hadn't lost a lot of blood and Ruslan hadn't gotten that far in his play time.

"Don't you fucking touch me! No!"

Cas smiled. He couldn't help it. Dean had to be terrified, but that spark, that thing he loved about Dean was still in there and going strong.

Wait, no, he didn't love Dean. Cas frowned. Mentally kicking himself for focusing on Dean again instead of Ruslan. He didn't love Dean. Dean was his Handler, and a damn good one. He wanted his Handler back so he didn't have to break in a new one.

"What the fuck is that?!"

Cas winced. He knew exactly what it was. One of Ruslan's favorite tools. Dean wouldn't enjoy it nearly as much as Ruslan would. Cas waited until Dean was yelling again before climbing onto the porch and making his way to the opposite side of the house Dean and Ruslan were on.

The door wasn't locked. Ruslan never did bother with locks. If one of his victims managed to escape, it meant more fun chasing them down again, and if anyone tried to break in, they'd regret it.

Cas moved quickly each time Dean choked and gagged around the laryngoscope that was being forced down his throat. As Cas got closer to the bedroom, he pulled the hypodermic needle and syringe out of his pocket, uncapping it as he crept through the door. Ruslan didn't need the laryngoscope to push the tube down Dean's throat. It was just more fun that way.

Ruslan was straddling Dean's belly as Dean flailed on the bed, wrists and ankles tied to the four corners of the poster bed. Dean was completely naked, but Ruslan was wearing jeans, a black T-shirt, and his boots. He picked up a length of tubing and held it up in front of Dean's face.

"This is going down your throat," Ruslan said, voice a little more raspy than Cas remembered. "I warned you not to fight your feedings, so this is your punishment for being a spoiled brat."

Just before Ruslan stared to push the tube down Dean's throat, Cas jumped onto the bed and pushed the needle into Ruslan's neck. He wrapped his left arm around the man's chest, pulling him back so he wouldn't fall on Dean and drive the laryngoscope into his throat. Ruslan struggled just a bit, then fell back against Cas, head dropping onto Cas' left shoulder.

Dean was choking, shaking his head and trying to push the medical equipment out of his throat. Cas pushed Ruslan to the left, lifting the man's right leg and rolling him over onto the left side of the bed.

"Calm down," Cas said as he put his left hand on Dean's chest and took hold of the laryngoscope with his right. "I'm getting it out. Hold still."

Dean's eyes were watering, face red, but he calmed just a bit for Cas long enough that Cas was able to pull the device out of him. Dean coughed and gasped, trying to get more air into his lungs even though the laryngoscope didn't cut off his breathing in the first place.

"Get me out!" Dean croaked as he struggled against the ropes holding him down. "Get me outta here!"

"Calm down," Cas said again, looking Dean in the eye.

"No! Fuck that!" Dean nearly growled, then coughed. "Get me outta here!"

"Ruslan needs to be dealt with," Cas said, pointing at the man on the bed.

"We can do that after you untie me!" Dean said through clenched teeth.

"No," Cas said. "We're doing this my way."

"Fuck your way!" Dean yelled, spit flying from his mouth.

"If you can't control yourself, then you'll stay here while I deal with him," Cas said as he climbed off the bed.

"No! Wait!" Dean cried out, then coughed again. "Cas, wait! Wait a minute! I need you to untie me so I can go to the bathroom! Please! Lemme up, please!"

Cas pulled the zip ties out of his pocket and started securing Ruslan's wrists behind his back. "You couldn't use the toilet even if you wanted to."

Dean went quiet other than his panting breaths. He stilled, and when Cas looked over at him, Dean's bottom lip was quivering, teeth clenched as he squeezed his eyes shut.

"Cas, what did he do?" Dean asked, voice cracking. "You never said anything like this and... Is that how you knew all those other cases weren't him? What's gonna happen?" he asked as he looked up at Cas, tears running down the sides of his face into his hair.

"What's going to happen is that you're going to calm down," Cas said as he finished putting three separate zip ties around Ruslan's wrists and started in on his ankles. "I need to make sure Ruslan can't move, and then I'm going to take the stitches out."

"Oh, fuck," Dean whimpered as he pulled on the restraints. "Is it permanent? He said it was permanent! Was he just trying to scare the shit outta me?"

"It's not permanent," Cas said, adding the third zip tie to Ruslan's ankles, then rolling the body off the bed and onto the floor.

"Don't leave me here!" Dean yelled as Cas walked out of the bedroom. "Cas! Don't leave me!"

Cas found Ruslan's medical supplies and picked out a small pair of scissors, disinfectant, a plastic urinal, gauze, and a tube of triple antibiotic cream. Ruslan always had a full stock of medical supplies. Victims dying too soon wasn't any fun, after all.

Dean was crying when Cas walked back in, sobs that made Cas' chest feel tight. "Don't leave me, please! Cas, please!"

Cas set the supplies down on the bed between Dean's legs, then put his left hand on Dean's chest, his right on top of Dean's head, gently cradling his skull. "I'm not leaving. I needed to get the medical supplies."

"Okay, but don't leave me again, please!" Dean begged, sniffling.

"I'm not going to leave you right now," Cas said, giving Dean a reassuring smile and keeping his voice calm and soothing. "I'm going to take the stitches out, but it won't be pleasant."

Dean let out a honking noise that was probably meant to be a laugh. "Can't be worse than when he put 'em in."

"No, but this time you're going to lose control of your bladder," Cas said as he gave Dean's chest a pat and moved a step to the left, putting himself at Dean's groin. He picked up disinfectant and squirted it over Dean's cock.

"What are you doing?!" Dean yelled as he flinched.

"I'm not going to harm you," Cas said. "It's going to hurt, but I'm not Ruslan."

"He was your mentor," Dean said as Cas picked up the scissors. "The police were wrong. He never kidnapped you. That's why you never wanted to find him."

"He taught me a lot of what I know," Cas said as he squirted the scissors with the disinfectant.

"So why should I believe you when you say you're not gonna do the same to me?" Dean asked, voice monotone, a little bit of the trauma from the last few days setting in.

"Because I came here to save you," Cas said as he wrapped his left hand around the end of Dean's cock and held it up, the scissors in his right hand. "Because as many times as I tried to tell myself Ruslan was the target, he wasn't."

Cas gently snipped the first of seven stitches holding Dean's urethra closed. Dean's abdomen was already swollen, but the stitches in Dean's cock were new. They'd most likely been put in earlier in the day, otherwise Dean's bladder would have burst already.

"Don't try to hold it in," Cas said. "You could do damage to your bladder, so just let go."

Cas snipped the second and third stitch, and as he moved on to the fourth, urine started spraying out of Dean's cock. Dean whimpered, but just like he'd been told, he didn't try to hold it in.

"It's okay," Cas said as he snipped the rest of the stitches. "I've been covered in much worse."

"I'm sorry I pushed about him," Dean whispered, wincing as his bladder slowly emptied. "If I would've known... I thought he'd hurt you. I thought the scars... I was trying to help because I thought it would give you some closure to find the guy who almost killed you. I wouldn't have ever bugged you about him if I'd known. I'm sorry."

Cas didn't bother with the urinal and just let Dean empty his bladder. He'd already lost most of it on the bed anyway. "I never told you. How could you know?"

"But why didn't you?" Dean asked, sounding a little lost. "You've known me for years. My mom's a Cleaner. I'd be the last person to get in the way of a mentor. Alastair's still out there killing people. I know exactly where he is, but I respect mom's decision to leave him alone."

"I'm not upset about you trying to help me catch him," Cas said as he held Dean's cock up and rubbed some antibiotic ointment on the tip. "You didn't have all the facts. It's understandable you wanted to fix it for me, but the scars on my back weren't given to me by Ruslan."

Dean stayed still as Cas untied his ankles. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"It's one of the main reasons I joined the CON," Cas said with a smile. "The police raided the warehouse in the middle of a kill. Ruslan had some candles and lamps going, and in the scuffle a gas lamp fell on me, the liquid running down the back of my shirt, the flames following it. That's why it looks like wings."

"They're beautiful," Dean said as Cas started to untie Dean's wrists.

"Ruslan got away, but when the police found me, they assumed I'd been a second victim," Cas said. "They never would've guessed a seventeen-year-old scrawny kid was learning from a master."

"Ruslan left you behind," Dean said instead of asked.

Cas nodded as he gently rolled Dean over onto his stomach. "That's why he wasn't caught, and it's what he was trying to teach me by taking you. He thought he was doing me a favor in taking away something that might get me killed one day."

Dean hissed as Cas spread his cheeks. Cas winced. Obviously the anal stitches had been put in a short time after Dean was kidnapped. With Ruslan's feeding schedule, Dean was full, and his asshole was red, bulging just a bit.

"Try to stay still," Cas said. "This is going to hurt."

"Don't tell me about that," Dean hissed. "Tell me about why you joined the CON."

Cas drenched the area in disinfectant as Dean grabbed a pillow and pushed his face into it, whimpering. He held still for Cas.

"The whole thing was ridiculous," Cas said. "A Cleaner would've observed and waited until the right time to take Ruslan out. A Cleaner would've realized I wasn't just a kidnapping victim. A Cleaner wouldn't have smashed through windows and doors, giving Ruslan enough time to escape while I rolled on the ground with my shirt on fire."

Cas cut the first stitch, feeling a sense of pride in his chest as Dean kept still, only his breath catching, trusting Cas to take care of him.

"As soon as I turned eighteen, I joined the CON," Cas said. "I'd been killing for years, but I wanted to make it a career. Getting paid for it was always a bonus. What I liked was the challenge. The CON gave me information. They gave me an amazing Handler after a few others who were absolute shit. They allowed me to sharpen my skills without the annoyance of getting caught by civilians in police uniforms who were trying to do good but didn't know what the fuck they were doing."

"Ah, fuckin' hurts," Dean hissed into the pillow as Cas pulled out another stitch. "How did you hook up with Ruslan?"

Cas snipped a stitch, ignoring the shit coming out of Dean's hole. He really didn't care. He'd told Dean he'd been covered in much worse, and he meant it.

"Ruslan was following a potential victim in my neighborhood," Cas said, pulling out a stitch. "He found me in an alleyway with a dead body. It wasn't my first, and he could tell, but he could also see that I was going to get caught if I kept going the way I was. He offered and I accepted."

"Ow," Dean whined, thighs shaking from the pain. "Cas, I'm really fuckin' sorry."

Cas snipped the last stitch and pulled it out. "It's okay. Let it go. When you're done, I'll help you into the shower. Just let it out."

Dean grunted as more came out, soiling the bed and his inner thighs. Cas rested a hand on Dean's lower back, comforting him as best he could. It wasn't much, but Cas wasn't equipped to deal with the emotional aspects of someone's trauma. He knew he wasn't what people needed, but he hoped it would comfort Dean just a little.

"Fuck, Cas, tell me somethin'," Dean said, panting. "Tell me more about you as a kid so I don't have to think about the fact I'm shitting the bed."

Cas sat down on the edge of the bed, facing Dean's upper body and resting his left arm on Dean's upper back. "My parents didn't know anything about what I was doing. Only my brother did."

"Gabriel?" Dean asked.

"Yes," Cas said, nodding.

"He's a Handler too," Dean said, grunting. "Why isn't he your Handler?"

"We don't work well together," Cas said. "Families usually don't. Your parents broke the mold on that one."

"It's 'cause they're both too stubborn to give up on each other," Dean said.

Cas chuckled. "Well, whatever works for them."

"Ow, ow, ow," Dean whimpered. "Fuckin' cramps. Keep talkin', Cas."

"Gabe and I are too competitive," Cas said, corners of his mouth pulling up into a small smile. "It would've never worked."

"You're competitive?" Dean asked.

"When I'm around Gabe? Yes," Cas said with a chuckle.

"That's cute," Dean said, a warmth in his voice.

"It wasn't so cute when he found me covered in the blood of a raccoon I'd killed," Cas said.

"I guess not," Dean said, his right hand coming out from under the pillow. He reached back and put his hand on Cas' leg, needing more contact.

Cas rubbed his right thumb over the back of Dean's hand. "It wasn't my first. It wasn't even my twentieth. At first Gabe was shocked, but very quickly he just got calm. He smiled at me, helped me clean up, and when we were done he said he still loved me. That he'd love me no matter what. He told me to be careful, especially if I started taking the neighborhood pets because people would miss them and get curious."

"How old were you?" Dean asked.

"Seven," Cas said. "He was eleven at the time. I think he decided to become a Handler that night."

"It didn't freak him out?"

"It must have," Cas said, shrugging. "I can't imagine it was a pleasant thing for an eleven-year-old to see, especially since I was his brother. But Gabe wasn't like other kids. He had this odd mix of maturity and childishness. Still has it. After that he still fought with me, pulled pranks on me, and annoyed the shit out of me, but he also watched out for me and started taking CON classes at a night school."

"What did your parents think of that?" Dean asked, then whimpered, his fingers digging into Cas' leg.

"They encouraged it," Cas said. "I think Gabe told them about me a few years after he found out himself. I never asked and they didn't say, but they weren't surprised when I joined the CON."

Dean's body suddenly relaxed, and he let out a sigh, breathing still ragged and his skin was wet with perspiration. "I don't know if I can hold myself up, but I also don't wanna roll around in my own shit any longer."

Cas stood up and undressed, checking the time as he set his watch on the nightstand. He still had plenty of time before Sam, John, and Mary would be there.

"Roll over," Cas said, helping Dean. He sat him up. "Put your arms around my neck and let me take most of your weight."

Dean chuckled as he slid off the bed. "I'd say somethin' flirty, but sex is the last thing I want right now," he said with a smile.

Cas knew Dean was deflecting with humor. Saying something that was really true but making it sound like a joke so he could hide behind his fear and pain. Cas helped Dean into the bathroom, holding him tightly because Dean's legs weren't really holding his weight after nearly four full days in bed. Cas started the water, letting Dean adjust it until it was warm enough, then he stepped in, taking Dean with him.

Dean moaned, putting his forehead down on Cas' right shoulder. "Feels amazing."

Cas held him, letting Dean enjoy the feeling of letting it all wash down the drain. Finally he grabbed the bar of soap and gently started washing Dean down, leaning him against the tiled wall of the shower and holding him up with his hip so Dean wouldn't fall.

"I'm going to ask you something," Cas said, "and I really need you to tell me the truth."

"Okay," Dean said, eyes closed as he trusted Cas to hold him up.

"I know Ruslan stitched you up and was force feeding you, but I need to know what else he did," Cas said. "I need to know if he forced himself on you. Anything sexual."

Dean opened his eyes. "No, he didn't," he said, shaking his head.

"Don't lie to me," Cas said, putting a bit of a growl into his voice to let Dean know he was fucking serious.

"I'm not," Dean said. "I can't call anything he did to me even remotely sexual. It was more like he was mad at me. Like he wanted me to feel bad for distracting you. He hit me plenty of times, even punched me in the balls because I wouldn't hold still while he was stitching up my dick, but no, there was nothing sexual about his contact with me."

"Okay," Cas said, nodding. A sense of relief flooded through him. "Did he do anything else?"

"He said things about you," Dean said, then smiled. "I think he was trying to shock me. It was all shit I'm pretty sure is true. It didn't bother me, and I think that pissed him off."

"Like what?" Cas asked.

Dean let out a chuckle. "He said you enjoy killing. That wasn't a surprise," he said, rolling his eyes. "Then he said you get off on hurting people, that you can come just from the suffering of others. He didn't seem too happy when I laughed and said you'd already come just from making me scream."

Cas smiled. "I _did_ enjoy that."

Dean nodded, smiling. "Yeah, I kinda did too. It hurt, but you coming like that without even touching yourself was really fuckin' hot."

"Did he tell you about the time I got the giggles while I was killing somebody?" Cas asked.

Dean let out a bark of laughter. "No! That sounds like you, though. And I think that's what surprised him the most. He didn't expect me to know you. Even though he knew I was your Handler, it's like he thought I had this romanticized version of you in my head or that I was blind to what you really are. It seemed to make him even more furious when I started joining in with stories about you."

Cas held Dean under the shower head again, rinsing him off. "Ruslan never has been able to accept that our kind can fit into society. That we have our own place. He'll never see the love between your parents and will always think your mother has some sort of hold on your father. That he's too scared to leave her, and that's the only reason they're together."

"Well, he _is_ scared of her, but that's not why he stays," Dean said.

"Speaking of your parents," Cas said, "they'll be here with Sam in a little more than an hour."

Dean's eyes widened, body stiffening against Cas. "I don't want them to see-"

"They won't," Cas said. "We'll clean you up and get you dressed, then I'll change the bedding."

"Are you gonna let Mom handle Ruslan?" Dean asked, voice low.

Cas sighed. "Part of the reason this whole thing works, the CON and everything it stands for is that victims and their families aren't the ones bringing the perpetrators to justice."

"But what do we do with him?" Dean asked. "You have ties to him, I've been stuck here for four days with him, Sam and my parents are family."

"I'd like to talk with your mother when she gets here," Cas said, "but I'm fairly certain she'll take me up on my offer."

"What's your offer?" Dean asked as Cas shut the water off.

"She can do whatever she wants to him in exchange for not hunting me down because I'm the common link between Ruslan and her son," Cas said, "and also in exchange for not hunting me down when she finds out a Cleaner is fucking her son."

Dean rolled his eyes. "She already knows, you dork. Did you think they haven't been keeping an eye on you for years? That's cute. You're adorable," he said, pinching Cas' cheek.

"Does Sam know too?" Cas asked, not really sure he was comfortable with all of it.

Dean nodded. "We don't really keep secrets in my family. I didn't tell them about wanting to become a Cleaner myself, but I think mom always kinda knew, and I really shouldn't have kept it from Sam and Dad anyway. I scared the shit outta them, and if anybody were to be accepting of something like that, it would be my family."

Cas wrapped Dean in a big towel, leaning him against the sink as he dried him off from head to toe, careful so as not to hurt him. It was strange to see Dean like that. Cas had never seen Dean hurt, had never held Dean up and helped him through an injury or even an illness. It felt good to take care of Dean, and there was something inside Cas that wanted more of it, but it seemed wrong. Wrong that Ruslan did that to Dean. Wrong that Ruslan took something from Dean.

"How long until Sleeping Beauty wakes up?" Dean asked, looking over Cas' shoulder into the bedroom.

"I'm going to give him another shot in about fifteen minutes," Cas said. "He'll still be out when your family gets here."

"Hey, Cas?" Dean said, grabbing Cas' shoulders and looking him in the eye.

"Yes, Dean?" Cas asked, a little amused by the way Dean was being so touchy with him. Dean was a tactile guy, but he'd always been careful around Cas because he knew Cas didn't like it all that much. What Dean didn't know is that it was all about the person who was touching him, and if Cas was comfortable with them, the touching was welcome.

"You don't have to tell me, but did Ruslan ever...," he said, then winced and shook his head. "I kinda don't want to ask this, but did he ever touch you?"

"Sexually?" Cas asked, and when Dean nodded, Cas shook his head. "No. Our relationship wasn't like that."

"But you asked if he'd forced himself on me," Dean said, then bit his lip, like he wanted to ask so much more, wanted to beg Cas for the truth. Like he was scared of that truth.

"I knew what he did to people," Cas said, "but you know in working with me that I compartmentalize. It never bothered me that he fucked his kills. It was just his way of enjoying his kill the same as all the rest of us. You'll find your way."

Dean nodded, shoulders dropping in relief. "So he didn't make you watch or anything?"

Cas shook his head. "Ruslan never forced anything on me. He didn't push, whether it was killing or anything else. He gave me tips, showed me how to do stuff, and didn't stop me from watching. He warned me about getting too close to victims when they weren't secured, but other than that Ruslan let me do my own thing and use him as a learning tool. It's why we got along so well. I'm too stubborn to be with somebody who has rigid rules or someone who's unpredictable and flies off the handle. I can't be with someone who doesn't have an open mind or doesn't accept things. Ruslan was that for me."

Dean peaked over Cas' shoulder again. "Did you love him?" he whispered.

Cas nodded. "Yes. There's a part of me that still does. I can never thank him for what he's given me."

"But you're giving him to Mom," Dean said, sadness in his eyes. Sadness for Cas at a relationship lost even though Ruslan had tortured him for almost four days.

Cas gave Dean a small smile, resting his hands on Dean's sides. "Ruslan was never going to follow the rules. He would've never become a part of the CON. And he didn't follow the unspoken rule of don't fuck with another killer's life. I've let him go for years, and he's killed hundreds of innocent people. It doesn't bother me, but I can't allow him to continue if he won't respect me enough to let me live my own life. I won't let him hurt you."

Dean grinned. “You’re a cold-blooded killer. Don’t get all sappy on me," he said, cheeks a little flushed.

Cas chuckled. "I've always gotten a little too close to people. Cared about them in my own way. Ruslan knew hurting Gabe would've gotten him killed, so he stayed away. He warned me about it, but he didn't touch Gabe."

"But you don't hang out with Gabe on a daily basis," Dean said.

"That and I'm not fucking him," Cas said, nodding.

Dean pulled Cas closer, their faces just inches apart. "He thinks you've fallen in love with me. That it's gonna get you hurt or killed because you're lost in a flurry of emotions and hearts and flowers. But I know you better than that. You care about me in your own way, but it doesn't change who you are and it doesn't distract you. Doesn't make you any less terrifying and doesn't make you bad at your job. All it does is keep me a little safer and makes me get all mushy because," he said, then leaned in, lips to Cas' left ear, "Castiel Novak likes me, and I like him too."

Cas wrapped his arms around Dean and held him, giving Dean's shoulder a kiss. "I'll still toss you into the tub if you throw a temper tantrum."

Dean snorted. "You're an asshole."

Cas chuckled as he pulled away. "It's time for Ruslan to get another shot. Would you like to do the honors?"

Dean smiled. "Hell yeah! Can I stab it into his neck?"

"Of course," Cas said, helping Dean into the bedroom with his left arm wrapped around Dean's middle.

"Aww, fuck, I forgot about that," Dean mumbled as he looked down at the mess on the bed.

"Here," Cas said, handing Dean a hypodermic needle and syringe. "Have fun while I take care of this."

"Cas, you don't have to clean it up for me," Dean said, wincing.

"No, I don't have to," Cas said, shrugging. "But would you rather clean this up or shove that into Ruslan's neck hard enough to leave a bruise?" he asked, smiling as he gestured toward the full syringe.

Dean let out a chuckle. "Well, when you put it like that," he said, then made his way around the bed, one hand hovering over the mattress just in case he needed the support, legs still a little shaky.

"He's most likely awake and listening, so stand behind him, your left leg against his back, left hand on his upper arm, then have fun," Cas warned.

"Okay," Dean said as he did what Cas had instructed.

Just as he plunged the needle into Ruslan's neck, the man growled, throwing himself back, but Cas watched with pride as Dean was ready for it even in his weakened state and held Ruslan down while emptying the contents into the man's neck. Dean didn't step away until Ruslan was motionless again.

Cas folded the blanket and sheets in, keeping the mess toward the middle, then carried the bundle out the front door and dropped it into the dumpster. It was a metal dumpster, which meant it would be easy to fill with Ruslan's things, then set it on fire before they left.

By the time Cas walked back into the bedroom, Dean was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at Ruslan.

Dean looked up at Cas. "Can I practice on him?" he asked. "You said you'd help me."

"No," Cas said, shaking his head. "This isn't going to be your first job. You need to enjoy that."

"Can I at least hurt him?" Dean asked.

"You can ask your mother when she gets here, but I'm going to assume she'll say no," Cas said.

Dean sighed. "Yeah, I'm assuming the same thing. Both Mom and Dad would mention it as we were growing up. That same shit you talk about," he said, though there wasn't real venom in his voice. "The CON works because it's not about revenge. It's about making the world a better place in a way most people just don't have the capacity to go through with."

"Your parents are right," Cas said, resting a hand on Dean's shoulder.

"I know," Dean said, "but I still wanna hurt him."

"You have to let go of that. Nothing you do to him will ever make up for what he did to you. It'll never give you back that sense of control he took from you," Cas said softly. "It might make you feel better temporarily, but it's best to just put it behind you and move on with your life. Work through it and make yourself better for having had the experience, learn something from it, find the control someplace else, and use it to make your life be however you want it to be."

Dean turned to look at him, a pain in his eyes that was finally setting in now that the fear and shock were receding. "I still wanna hurt him," he whispered.

Cas took Dean by the hand and walked him around to the far side of the bed, away from Ruslan, and picked up the triple antibiotic. "Three times a day," he said as he squirted some ointment onto his right index finger.

"Aww, man, it's gonna feel all squishy when I walk around," Dean whined, but turned around and put his hands down on the bed, bending over for Cas.

"Big baby," Cas teased as he spread Dean's ass cheeks and gently applied the ointment. He squeezed more onto his left index finger to avoid cross-contamination. "Turn around so I can put some on your dick."

Dean turned and wrapped his hand around his own cock, holding it up. He hissed as Cas smoothed the ointment into the red skin. "After having that done, I gotta say I wouldn't mind getting my dick pierced. I thought it was gonna hurt like Hell, but if the situation was a little different, I would've enjoyed it. It was intense."

"Once you're healed up, I'll pierce it for you if you want," Cas said as he walked into the bathroom and washed his hands.

"You know how to do that?" Dean asked, surprised tone to his voice.

"I know a lot about the body anyway," Cas said as he dried his hands on the towel and stepped out of the bathroom, "and piercings are interesting to me, so yes, I learned how to do it."

"Have you ever pierced anybody?" Dean asked, then chuckled, rolling his eyes. "You know, when they're _not_ on your table."

"Yes," Cas said, nodding. "I've done it both for temporary play and permanently."

"Cool," Dean said, "but why don't you have any?"

"I have in the past," Cas said.

"Dude, these are things I _need_ to know," Dean said, holding his arms out at his sides. "Important info that I _need_ to know!"

Cas smiled. "I had a PA for a few years just because I liked how they worked with cages, and I also had my nipples pierced for about five years."

"Why did you take them out?" Dean asked.

"The piercing in my left nipple was torn out while I was trying to subdue a target," Cas said, "and I didn't like the way it looked. A single piercing in the right nipple didn't look right to me, so I took it out. The PA was taken out because I was tired of people making an issue out of it."

"They didn't like it?" Dean asked, frowning.

"No, they liked it too much," Cas said, remembering how annoying that had been. "Touching is on _my_ terms, and when people see something like that they take it as an invitation and ask questions and want to know what it feels like in their mouth, in their ass, and they want to play with it. I got tired of it."

"Makes sense," Dean said, shrugging.

Cas checked the time again and grabbed his clothes. "I'd like to clean up a little and start preparing the room. Go ahead and get dressed."

"I thought you said you were going to ask Mom if she would do it," Dean said as he headed straight for the dresser on the wall opposite the bed like he knew his clothes would be there.

"If Mary doesn't want to do it or doesn't think it's appropriate, Ruslan still needs to be killed," Cas said as he pulled his jeans up and buttoned them.

"So you'll do it if Mom doesn't?" Dean asked as he stepped into his boxer briefs.

"Yes," Cas said.

"Are you okay with that?" Dean asked, concerned tone to his voice.

Cas pulled his shirt over his head. "It doesn't matter to me," he said. "I'm leaving it for your mother as an offering out of respect, but if she doesn't want to deal with him or she has a problem with it, I certainly don't."

"But he's your mentor," Dean said as he buttoned his jeans and grabbed his shirt.

"I don't form connections in the same way most people do," Cas said as he put his socks on. "He didn't care to make himself part of my life after we went our separate ways, and since then I've moved on."

"But the look on your face when you talked about him," Dean said, "it seemed like you... I don't know."

"Loved him?" Cas asked, looking Dean in the eye.

Dean nodded. "Yeah."

"I did," Cas admitted. "I had it built up in my head somewhat, and seeing him again I realized the man in my head isn't the man on the floor over there," he said as he tilted his head toward Ruslan. "He taught me a lot, and I'll always be grateful for that, but he needs to be put down. He's done a lot of damage and letting him live just doesn't make sense."

"So you don't love him anymore?" Dean asked.

"I don't really know if what I feel for anyone is love in the traditional sense," Cas said, shrugging. "People don't seem to be able to turn love on and off at the drop of a hat like I can, so maybe it's something different. But whatever it is, seeing what he's become and the way he's tried to force his ideas on me, his own set of morals after all these years, like I'm his pet instead of his peer, it demonstrated his feelings regarding me, and the moment I read the note he left me at your house, something changed. That feeling is just gone."

"Are you just saying that so I won't feel bad about you killing him?" Dean asked, shifting from one foot to the other as if he was uncomfortable with the idea.

"No," Cas said firmly. "When I'm close with someone, like you, I don't bullshit. I don't tell lies to make you feel better. Lies and manipulation are for the people I interview, the people on my table, and people I don't give a fuck about. Even if the truth hurts you, you're getting it, and the truth is that you're irreplaceable as a Handler and he fucked with you."

Cas watched Dean carefully, the flash of hurt that Dean tried to hide. "Oh, okay," Dean said, then chuckled, forcing a smile. "Well, thanks for saving me. Exploding sounds like a painful way to go."

"Yes, it is," Cas said, nodding, "and you also get to help me set up a temporary kill room. You've never done that before, have you?"

"No," Dean said, shaking his head. "Where do I start?"

"First you get to babysit while I go back to my vehicle for the supplies and to dig up my phone," Cas said.

"You buried your phone?" Dean asked, nose scrunching up.

"I couldn't bring it in the cabin," Cas said. "Ruslan has always been a tech geek, and he probably has some sort of sensor and scrambler here, so it wouldn't do me much good anyway. Between that and his heightened sense of smell, I couldn't bring much with me."

"Okay, so I'll babysit the asshole while you grab the stuff," Dean said, pulling himself up onto the top of the dresser, wincing a bit as he settled. He didn't have his boots on yet, and he looked vulnerable sitting on top of the dresser with his legs swinging, nothing but socks on his feet.

"Don't touch him," Cas said.

"I won't," Dean said, giving him a tight smile.

"Recent trauma won't get you out of the consequences if you touch him," Cas said.

"Cas, I said I wasn't gonna touch him!" Dean said, irritated and leaning forward.

Cas nodded, then left the room, picking up the supplies and getting back as soon as he could, only a little worried Dean might do something, but when he got back, Dean was sitting right where he'd left him. The were quiet as they set up the room, Dean working with him easily and anticipating what Cas would want. The time went by quickly and soon Cas heard the front door open.

"Show your Mom you're still alive and intact," Cas said.

Dean turned to him and frowned, having not heard the admittedly very soft noise his parents had made getting into the cabin. Mary brushed by Cas and grabbed onto her son in a way that had Cas' instincts forcing him back against the wall. Her eyes were wide, but she wasn't scared. She was ready to kill, ready to maim, and it was obvious she already had mapped the room, knew exactly where Ruslan was, and Cas watched every movement as she looked her son over for injuries.

"I'm okay, Mom," Dean said, wrapping his arms around her and holding on tight. "I'm fine. Cas fixed me right up. I'm okay."

John was next in line, a quiet presence, but still just as intense. Cas didn't feel the instinct to move back from John, but he could still feel the protectiveness coming off the man. Sam stood awkwardly in the doorway to the bedroom, eyeing the far side of the bed like Ruslan was going to spring up and murder them all any moment. When John had checked over his son and seen for himself Dean was mostly okay, Sam slipped in and hugged Dean, letting out a shaky breath when he pulled away.

"How long's he out for?" Mary asked Cas.

"You've got about twenty minutes," Cas said.

"Sam, get the supplies out of the truck, please," Mary said. Sam nodded, then hurried out of the cabin.

"Anybody been notified?" John asked, right hand on Dean's hip, as if he needed just a little bit of contact to remind himself Dean was there and okay.

"No," Cas said. "The CON doesn't know about this and Ruslan is paid up through next Friday. The main cabin is where the owners stay and there's a cabin within eighty feet of that main cabin where an older couple is staying through tomorrow night, but other than that the cabins are empty."

"John, I'd like you to check Dean out in the living room," Mary said, giving him a significant look.

"Mom, I'm fine," Dean said. "Cas checked me out already. He was very thorough."

Mary pinned him with a look that even had Cas squirming. "Please?" she asked, and there was a softness to her tone that Cas hadn't expected.

Dean melted, and right then Cas knew so much more about Mary's relationship with the boys. She wasn't extremely harsh, just firm, and they loved her so much that it didn't take threats to get them moving.

"Yes, ma'am," Dean said, then gave her a kiss on the cheek before heading for the living room.

"My medical supplies will be in the green duffel," Mary said to John.

"I've got him, babe," John said, giving her shoulder a squeeze before he followed Dean. He closed the door behind him as he went.

"Thank you," Mary said, her demeanor changing in a fraction of a second, shoulders relaxing, eyes softening, and her stance casual.

Cas nodded. "I suppose you want to know the details," he said.

"Castiel," she said, taking a step forward, "thank you." She put as much meaning as she could behind the words.

Cas gave her a small smile. "You're welcome."

"And you don't have to give him to me," Mary said, gesturing toward Ruslan.

"I've got ulterior motives," Cas admitted, letting out a huff of laughter. "I was hoping for an exchange. My life in return for his."

Mary frowned. "Why would I kill _you_?" she asked, then she smiled. "Oh, I see. You think I'm after you because of Dean."

"Well, in a way," Cas said, wincing. He didn't know why he felt so unsure of himself, so awkward. He never felt this way around anyone, but Mary seemed to look straight through him, and he felt raw in her presence. "But not in the way you're thinking. You know it's Ruslan's fault for Dean being taken and hurt, and I'd understand if you wanted to take that out on me too, but that's not why I'm giving you Ruslan. I'm giving you Ruslan because Dean fell in love with me and I think he's trying to worm his way into my home, and I think I'm going to let him, because he's really fucking charming. Just like his mother."

Mary smiled, taking another step toward Cas. "It's so different for people like us. I've never really understood how we can be so observant about everything else, but when it comes to the people who work their way under our skin, we can't see shit," she said, shaking her head. "John practically had to hit me over the head with a frying pan before I realized he was in love with me."

Cas chuckled. "I think Dean was about to try that approach."

"You know, Sam and Jess have been giving him pointers for years," Mary said, grinning.

"Huh?" Cas said, very confused.

"Dean hadn't been working with you very long when he came over for a family dinner," Mary said. "He was falling for you, but he didn't know what to do about it. He knew I wouldn't be upset. I've never been the type to stop my boys from trying to connect with Cleaners, or Handlers for that matter, so he sat there at the dinner table with this adorable little lovesick look on his face, and the rest of us knew right away. Of course, he knew how to deal with a Cleaner. He grew up with one. But he didn't know how to woo them."

"He's been working at this a long time," Cas said instead of asked, something in his chest aching.

Mary nodded. "You know Jess is a Handler, so that's a no-brainer for Dean and he got information out of her every chance he could. He begged all four of us for tips on how to snag you."

"So I'm going to assume the reason I'm still alive is because you don't mind any of this," Cas said carefully.

"You were fully vetted before Dean ever met you," Mary said. "I wouldn't let my son work with someone who didn't know what they were doing, someone I didn't respect. I don't mind your relationship with my son at all. Especially not when you're all he talks about when he's with us."

Cas didn't really know what to say. He'd followed Mary's career over the years and thought so much of her that to have her say those things, well, it didn't feel real, like maybe he'd never gotten the upper hand on Ruslan and he was dreaming everything that had happened since he came into the cabin.

"He doesn't know what he's getting," Cas said, voice low as he remembered the look on Dean's face when Cas had subdued Ruslan. The fear in his eyes.

"Bullshit," Mary said, putting her hands on her hips. "If anybody out there is going to know what they're getting, it's him. He probably hasn't told you because he doesn't want people to think poorly of me, but he found out what I was when he was nine. John and I had agreed to wait until he was older, but Dean found my notebook."

Cas' chest felt tight. Only nine and Dean had been shown a world most people refused to acknowledge even as adults.

"He took it really well," Mary said, regret in her eyes even though she was trying to project indifference over the whole thing. "We tried counseling, thinking he was really traumatized, but he just accepted it and wanted to help. He always wanted to help. It was all we could do to make him wait until he was fourteen. By then we were scared he'd find information from another source, and we didn't want him doing that, so he started helping us on cases. He didn't have access to all the information like crime scene photos and such until he was older, but even at fourteen he was able to piece things together. I don't know if he's Cleaner material, but Dean's not as sensitive as you think he is about stuff like this."

"I know he's not sensitive," Cas said. "He puts up with me. Not many people can say that."

Mary let out a sigh. "Look, I know Cleaners, by nature, keep a wall up. That's just what we do. But you're not even letting him close enough to get near the wall because you think you're going to ruin him. Dean's much stronger than you give him credit for when it comes to you. Anyone else would've walked away after you punished them using their worst fears."

Cas felt his face flush a little. "He told you about that?"

Mary nodded, something in her expression telling Cas it might have been a harsher punishment than he thought it was. "He also told me why you did it, and while I might not have ramped it up quite that high if it were me and I'd suggest never using that punishment with him again, I know sometimes Winchester men need a firm hand to get the point across."

"John's stubborn?" Cas asked, smirking. He filed her suggestion away for a later time, because he needed to talk to Dean about it.

Mary snorted. "Ask Dean one of these days why his dad flinches whenever a glove is snapped."

Cas gained just a little bit more respect for the woman standing in front of him. He had guessed as much, but to hear that Mary had put John Winchester in his place at least once over the years was beautiful, and he made a mental note to ask Dean about it.

"You don't have to worry about me, Castiel," Mary said, shaking her head. "Relationships are hard, and Dean is stubborn, which means you're both going to hurt each other, but I think you can be good for each other too, so that guy over there," she said as she pointed toward Ruslan, "is all yours if you want him."

"Consider it a gift, then, from one colleague to another," Cas said.

"Well, then I'm going to need to know the details," Mary said, her body tensing in a way that told Cas she was excited over the prospect of getting her hands on Ruslan. "Sam didn't have anything other than what you told him and what the medical examiners guessed from their autopsies."

"It'll take a few days," Cas said. "Ruslan has never killed anyone quickly."

"Sounds like fun," Mary said, mischief in her eyes. "And once you've told me everything, I want you to take Dean and Sam with you. Jess is waiting for Sam, but I want you to take Dean to _your_ house. I want you to keep him there, let him sleep in your bed with you, and I want you to let him be clingy. I'm not asking you to change your personality or how you treat him because it's part of what he fell in love with, but I know you have a hard time with physical contact, and Dean needs it for reassurance after bad times."

"Are you ordering me to cuddle with your son?" Cas asked, chuckling.

"Yup," Mary said, smiling a very dangerous smile. "And if you don't, I'll find out, and I'll make sure every time you get a package from the CON, there's glitter inside the notes."

Cas' eyes widened. "I didn't think it was possible, but I've underestimated you, Mrs. Winchester."

Mary flashed him that beautifully charming smile she'd passed on to Dean. "Don't worry. Dean doesn't know anything about the glitter. Yet."

Cas felt the flush coming back to his cheeks. "How about we get into the details while Ruslan listens in. I'm sure he'll enjoy hearing about everything you're going to do to him."

Mary nodded. "Sounds like fun."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The very awesome [outoftheashes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/outoftheashes/pseuds/outoftheashes) / [samanddeaninpanties](http://samanddeaninpanties.tumblr.com) / Tori has written fanfic of my CON 'verse.
> 
> It's named [You're Missing Out](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10371669). It's not considered "canon" as far as the CONventional Psychopathy 'Verse goes, but it's a scene inspired by Dean slipping up around Sam and Sam realizing his brother might be a serial killer too. Go check it out!! :)


	11. Chapter 11

Sam was a quiet presence in the back seat of Cas' SUV. Cas didn't really know what to say to the guy, and he didn't feel obligated to make things any easier for him. Sam had grown up around this stuff, but it didn't seem like he had been ready to handle something happening to his brother. Maybe that was something impossible to prepare for.

Dean's head was resting on Cas' right thigh, and he was snoring softly. Had been since they'd gotten on the highway. Cas glanced over every once in a while because it seemed impossible that Dean was scrunched up as much as he was. Dean wasn't a small man, and yet he'd tucked his legs up onto the seat, then had curled up with his head on Cas.

The center section of the front seat didn't really seem to bothering Dean even though it wasn't as soft, being a console that flipped up for more seating. Dean didn't even budge when Cas eased off the I10 and headed for Sam's house.

"Thank you, Castiel," Sam said softly, meeting his eyes in the rearview mirror.

Cas turned another corner. "You can call me Cas," he said.

Sam's eyes widened a little, and then he smiled. "Thank you, Cas."

"You're welcome, Sam," Cas said as he pulled into Sam's driveway. Dean still didn't move.

"If you guys need anything," Sam said as he opened his door, "don't hesitate to call or text. Anything, any time."

"Thank you," Cas said. "And, Sam?"

Sam froze halfway out of the SUV. "Yeah?"

"I'll text you later to let you know how he's doing," Cas said. It was something he didn't really need to do, but the longer he was with them, the more he realized how close the Winchester family was.

"Thank you," Sam said, and his voice was full of relief.

"Goodnight," Cas said.

"G'night, Cas," Sam said, then closed the door and headed up the sidewalk to his front door.

Cas waited while Sam fished out his keys, watched with amusement as Jess opened the door before Sam could and wrapped her arms around her husband, holding tightly, possessively. She gave Cas a quick wave before pulling Sam into the house and closing the door.

"I didn't feel like talking," Dean mumbled against Cas' leg. "If he knew I was awake, he would've been asking me questions the whole drive down here. And your leg is comfy."

Cas smiled. "I heard you snoring," he said.

"I'm good at faking it," Dean said.

"So good you fooled yourself too," Cas said, amused.

"I wasn't sleeping," Dean said, pushing himself up and scowling at Cas. He had an imprint of Cas' jeans on his left cheek. "I was dozing."

"Okay," Cas said as he pulled away from the house.

"You missed my street," Dean said a few minutes later. When Cas ignored him, Dean sighed. "My mom threatened you. She said you needed to take me home," he said, dejected tone to his voice.

"She _did_ threaten me," Cas admitted, "but it didn't change my plans in the least."

"Cas, you don't have to do this," Dean said, exhaustion oozing from the man. "It wasn't your fault Ruslan took me, and you don't have to put me up out of some sense of obligation or anything. I'm fine. Just take me home."

Cas pulled up to a stoplight and turned to look at Dean. "Have you ever known me to do something out of obligation?" he asked.

"No," Dean said, rubbing his thumb over a gaping rip in the fabric of his jeans just above his left knee, "but I don't think you've ever had your Handler kidnapped by your mentor before."

"No," Cas said.

"I'm not gonna do something stupid," Dean said softly. "You don't have to babysit me."

"Dean?"

"Yeah," Dean said as the light turned green.

"I already told you we're doing this my way," Cas said, keeping his eyes on the road.

Dean didn't reply, so Cas just drove them home. Dean was quiet as they went into the house, quiet as they changed their clothes, Cas giving Dean some pajama pants and a soft T-shirt to sleep in, and as they crawled into bed together, Dean scooted to the far side of the bed, still quiet.

Cas thought about what Mary had said. About how Dean got clingy after bad things happened. Cas didn't know how to comfort people. He never had been able to do it well even when he tried with his family. It always felt like he was a poor imitation of something. A pat on the back, a quick 'I'm sorry you're sad.' That couldn't be what people wanted or needed.

That disconnect he felt with people was more noticeable when he was with someone he actually cared about. He wanted to kick himself even as he reached out and wrapped his right arm around Dean's middle and pulled him close. He shouldn't have been doing it. He should've let Dean handle it on his own and just be there for him. If Dean was clingy, Cas wouldn't push him away.

Dean put his right hand over Cas' and went very still, breathing shallow. Cas could feel the tension, but he didn't know why it was there. He figured he could be the cause of it, but he didn't think he was.

"How long does it take to die like that?" Dean asked, voice soft.

"Ruslan?" Cas asked, and Dean grunted his answer. "It depends. If your mom wants to, she can draw it out for a week, but because Ruslan was already force feeding you, I'm fairly sure she's going to do the same. It should take three days at the most."

"That doesn't seem like a very long time," Dean said, then snorted. "Well, I mean it's a long time if you're the one having it done to you, but you know what I mean."

"If all he did was sew a person up and force feed them, it would take longer depending on how much the person consumed," Cas said.

"Wait, what do you mean by 'if all he did'?" Dean asked.

"Ruslan didn't just feed people until they ruptured," Cas said.

"Oh," Dean said, then a small shiver ran through his body. "So what did he do? What was he going to do to me?"

"Closing off the urethra results in a ruptured bladder much quicker than your colon will rupture," Cas said. "That's why he waited until the day I came to stitch it shut. Once it ruptures, the urine leaks into the abdominal cavity, and even though urine is usually sterile, especially in someone healthy like you, your body will start to go into shock, but sepsis doesn't set in for a while."

"Sounds nice," Dean grumbled.

"Ruslan was going to force feed you for about three more days, and sometime after sewing your urethra shut, when your bladder was very full, he would've punched your pelvic area, causing the bladder to rupture," Cas said. "At the end of the third day, he would've repeatedly kicked your abdominal area until your intestines ruptured."

"You don't die instantly from that," Dean said. He wasn't asking.

"No," Cas said, glad that he had his arm around Dean because Dean was curling around it, like he needed it. "It would take a few hours, during which Ruslan would've carved into your stomach with his favorite knife. He's good at what he does and knows how to do minimal damage to areas that would speed up the process of dying."

"But why does it look like animal attacks?" Dean asked. "Some of the autopsy reports listed that as the cause of death. It shouldn't look like that if he's using a knife."

"Ruslan plays with everything," Cas said, noting the fine tremor that ran through Dean's body. "Even after someone has died, he has his fun. By the time he's done with a body, the abdominal area is shredded and resembles an animal attack."

"So the forced feeding is how they get the bruises around their mouth and in their throats," Dean said instead of asked.

"Yes," Cas said. "That and Ruslan forcing himself on them."

"Why the stitches in the mouth?" Dean asked.

"He did that to the victims who went into shock early and refused to speak or interact with him," Cas said, remembering some of the more easily broken victims. "They lost their minds and became these pliable things that he could do anything to. It took some of the fun out of it for him, and he wanted to mark them for it."

Dean let out a humorless laugh. "That's why you didn't bother looking in my mouth?"

Cas smiled. "I don't think I've ever heard a more belligerent kidnapping victim." He was proud of Dean for that.

Dean turned over, wrapping his left arm around Cas and pushing his face into Cas' chest, breathing heavily as he lost control of his emotions. "Don't kick me out for this," he said, then sniffled. "Please. I'm sorry, but I can't stop myself. Don't kick me out. Please."

Cas threw his right leg over Dean's legs and held Dean closer, right arm pulling Dean up against him as Dean shuddered and tried to catch his breath.

"I'm not gonna kick you out, Dean," Cas said firmly.

It wasn't huge sobs or wailing that came from Dean, but just soft whimpers and gasping breaths as Cas' shirt became soaked with tears. Cas had been worried he wouldn't be able to comfort Dean, but he'd forgotten how well his Handler knew him. And if all it took to reassure Dean, to make him feel better, was to hold him and promise him he wouldn't be tossed out, Cas was more than willing to do it.

Dean took a seat at the kitchen table while Cas finished cooking dinner. He was wearing the same blue sleep pants and white tank top Cas had given to him the day before after Dean had showered.

He'd been quiet ever since Cas had taken him away from that little cabin in the woods, and Cas didn't know if he should try to talk Dean into seeing someone, getting some counseling.

Cas knew he wasn't qualified to help Dean, and Dean seemed perfectly happy to just have Cas around, to be touched and held, to watch Cas cook him dinner.

But in the last few days Cas had seen a side of Dean he'd only suspected was there before. The side that wasn't a serial killer. The side that cared too much and felt things too deeply. The side of him that was too human to be what Dean wanted to be.

"What do you want to drink?" Cas asked, ignoring the way Dean flinched at the sound of his voice.

Dean hesitated, so Cas just started dishing up the goulash and pulling the silverware out, letting Dean take his time.

"Uhm, can I have some of that stuff you made me yesterday?" Dean asked.

Cas set Dean's plate down in front of him. "Yes. I have to make some more."

"Oh, you don't have to," Dean said, wincing. "I thought you had some in the fridge still."

Cas didn't pause. He opened the fridge, pulled out the lemonade concentrate and lemon-lime soda, then set it on the counter and grabbed two glasses out of the cupboard. Dean had liked the drink so much the day before that Cas had put another package of concentrate into the fridge to thaw the night before.

"Thanks, Cas," Dean said, smiling as he took the lemonade-soda from Cas and set it on the table.

Cas brought his own soda and plate to the table and sat across from Dean. 

"This is really good," Dean said with a mouthful of food.

"Thank you," Cas said. He'd always liked his own cooking, and it was surprisingly nice to share it with Dean on a more regular basis.

Cas' phone chirped, so he pulled it out of his pocket and unlocked it. Dean sat up a little straighter in his seat as Cas read the text.

"What is it?" Dean asked, though he probably knew who is was from.

Cas sent off a reply to Mary, then looked up at Dean. "It's done. He's dead."

Dean paled. "Oh. A-are you sure?"

"Yes," Cas said.

"How are you sure?" he asked, a vulnerability in his voice that was a little difficult to listen to because it made something in Cas' chest ache.

"Your mother sent me confirmation."

Dean didn't seem to be able to take his eyes off the phone even though he couldn't see the screen. "Can I see?"

Cas set the phone down on the table and slid it toward Dean. Dean held his breath as he looked at the ruined body of his kidnapper.

"Mom's good," Dean said, then let out a huff of laughter.

"One of the best," Cas agreed.

Her work was beautiful. She'd listened to everything Cas had told her and carried it out to the last detail. It was obvious Ruslan had been alive long enough for her to play with him after his stomach had burst, and Cas couldn't think of anyone who would've done a better job, even Ruslan himself. She'd kept him alive four days.

Dean finally sat back and took a cleansing breath as Cas took the phone and put it in his pocket. He shook his head, brow furrowed. "I don't feel any different. I thought once he was dead I'd feel different. I mean, I'm glad Mom and Dad are okay and he didn't get loose, but I don't know. I thought I'd feel relieved and satisfied, but I don't," he said, looking up at Cas with confusion in his eyes.

"That's why the system works," Cas said, reaching out and putting his hand over Dean's, thumb rubbing over the back of Dean's hand. "People like me and your mom don't do this for revenge or the satisfaction of perfect justice. Nothing we could do would ever give the victims back what they lost. What we're doing is using our skills in a constructive outlet. It comes with a lot of benefits like making the world a better place and ensuring Ruslan, for example, doesn't hurt anybody else, but the average person can't do what we do because the average person has expectations and needs that would never be fulfilled, and it would eat them up inside, destroy them from the inside out."

"You say that like I'm one of the average people out there who wants to lay down some justice," Dean said, frowning.

"It's not a bad thing for you to want that," Cas said gently.

Dean pulled his hand away from Cas'. "But you think because I'm letting this get to me, I shouldn't be a Cleaner," he said, nearly spitting out the words.

"Part of what you said you liked about me was that I don't shove bullshit down your throat," Cas said, not really sure if he was saying the right things, but he said it anyway. "I'm not going to tell you something that isn't true to save your feelings. You can crave this life as much as you want, but in the end it's not you. You have interests and I have no problem indulging those, but you're no more a Cleaner than your dad or Sam or Jess."

"You said you'd help me," Dean said, eyes welling up with tears. It wasn't something that would normally make Dean cry, but Dean wasn't in his normal state of mind since Ruslan had taken him. "Ruslan didn't break me. He scared the fuckin' shit outta me, but he didn't break me, and you don't get to use that as an excuse to back out on your end of the deal."

"I _did_ tell you that," Cas said, nodding, "and I'm not backing out, but I won't be recommending you for the certification."

Dean stood up, palms flat on the table as he leaned forward. "You were never gonna do it. You don't care about me beyond the fact that I'm useful, you said so yourself, and now that you think you're gonna lose me as a Handler, you're trying to get things back under control. Well, fuck you. Fuck you, Cas."

Cas let Dean storm out of the kitchen. He let him stomp down the hallway and start rummaging through things in Cas' bedroom. He finished his dinner as Dean stomped out the front door and slammed it shut. He washed the dishes, put away the leftovers, and wiped down the table and counter tops.

It was dark outside by the time Cas opened the front door, but Dean's figure on the front steps of his porch was unmistakable. He was hunched over, elbows on his knees as he watched cars pass by on the street. Cas closed the door behind him and sat down next to Dean, their knees brushing up against one another.

"My dramatic exit was totally ruined when I realized my car's at my house," Dean grumbled.

"Even if it was here," Cas said, lips twitching into a smile, "you don't have your keys."

Dean let out a huff of laughter, then sighed. "I'm not ready to admit I shouldn't be a Cleaner, but I'll be honest and say I _did_ have the wrong motives."

"What motives were those?" Cas asked even though he knew.

"I wanted to make the world a better place," Dean said, almost as if he was disappointed in himself. "And even though I've known you for years, grew up with a Cleaner for a mother, and have been with the CON as long as I have, I still thought there was a part of you guys that felt the same way. Add that to the fact that I can watch you burn holes in a woman as she screams without flipping out myself, and it all made me think I could do this."

Cas shook his head. "Handlers aren't what you would call mainstream either. Anyone who can live and work closely with a serial killer, anyone who can look at crime scene photos and knowingly allow someone to be murdered because they know it serves a greater good isn't mainstream. You and I do what we do and it allows the rest of the world to live their lives without a burden on their souls. A burden we just don't feel."

"And you promise me you're not just saying this because you want me as your Handler?" Dean asked.

His voice was nonchalant, but Cas could hear what Dean was trying to hide. Cas knew his response to Dean was a make or break for what Dean was planning in his own head.

"I don't sugar coat things," Cas said, pausing a beat, "and I don't think you should be a Cleaner."

Dean was quiet for a few moments, then let out a chuckle. "I really wanted it. I wanted to save people, hunt the bastards that hurt them, and I wanted you to give a shit about me."

Cas stretched his legs out, crossing his ankles. "I lie and manipulate the people I use to find killers, but I have no reason to lie to anybody else."

"Yeah, I know," Dean said. "I don't want you to lie to me."

"But sometimes I lie to myself and choose my words carefully when I'm speaking to others," Cas said.

Dean snorted. "What would you lie to yourself about? You've never made excuses for what you are, and you shouldn't."

"I told you that you were irreplaceable as a Handler and that's why I saved you," Cas said, something deep inside him niggling with worry at exposing himself to Dean.

Dean turned to him, eyes wide. "Wait, now you're going to tell me I _am_ replaceable?" he asked, leaning back as if scared of the truth.

Cas shook his head. "No, it's true that you're irreplaceable. Just ask the other Handlers they've assigned to me."

"Then what are you saying?" Dean asked, brow furrowing.

"I saved you because you mean something to me," Cas said, surprised when it wasn't hard to say it. "It's frustrating and annoying and I've been fighting it, but when I was on my way out to that cabin, I was coming for you, and I didn't care whether I was the one to finish Ruslan off as long as I got you, but it had nothing to do with your skills as a Handler."

Dean was quiet as everything sank in, and then he grinned. "Does this mean you're gonna buy me flowers?" he asked.

Cas let out a growl of frustration, the urge to do something to Dean almost overwhelming. "Dean, I-"

"Cas, Cas, wait," Dean said, wrapping his left arm around Cas and yanking him closer. "I was teasing. Don't have a stroke or something. Remember why I frustrated Ruslan so much? And while we're on the subject, why I didn't get stitches in my mouth?"

Cas' body relaxed again. "Because you're a pain in the ass."

Dean tilted his head back and laughed. It was a good sound. A sound that made something inside Cas unwind. Something that had been tight since he realized Dean had been taken by Ruslan. Dean had his scars and his issues, but he was going to be okay. Maybe not by everyone's standards, but it was his own normal.

Cas leaned against Dean, the warm weight of Dean's arm around him nice instead of irritating. The silence between them was comfortable. The scent of Dean's favorite shampoo pleasant instead of something that tickled his nose.

"I'm still hungry," Dean said a bit sheepishly. "I threw a temper tantrum and left most of my dinner behind."

"I finished mine," Cas said, grinning. "It was good."

"Are there any leftovers?" Dean asked.

Cas let out a huff. "For someone who threw a temper tantrum?"

"Yes, for someone who got butthurt over the fact that they aren't serial killer material and threw a temper tantrum," Dean said, and Cas knew if it wasn't so dark, he'd be able to see Dean blushing.

"There's still lemonade left too," Cas said. "But after dinner you have to call your mom. Some motherly instinct is forcing her to message me every twenty minutes, and if you don't call her soon, she'll most likely follow through on her threats."

Dean chuckled. "What did she threaten you with?"

"That's none of your business," Cas said as he stood up and headed inside.

"Aww, c'mon!" Dean whined. "You can't just drop something like that and not tell me. My mom scares you, and that means I should get the details because I'm her son and you're my boyfriend."

Cas closed and locked the door, smirking as Dean pounded on the other side of the front door. It didn't take Dean long to run around to the back of the house and plaster himself against the back door, a hopeful expression on his face as he waited patiently for Cas to let him in.


	12. Chapter 12

Dean sat across from him at the desk in his office, the expression on his face uncertain after Cas had called him in. It was obvious Dean was interested nonetheless. Cas set a folder down on the desk and slid it to Dean.

"Eiker?" Dean asked as he picked up the folder and started leafing through the papers inside. "This the guy you were following when Ruslan took me?"

"Yes," Cas said.

"Did you need my help for something?" Dean asked, eyes scanning everything carefully.

"Yes, you're going to be helping me with the case," Cas said. He put his name and password into the computer, pulling up the rest of the information on Eiker.

"Ah, back to work," Dean said, grinning, then looked up at Cas. "Wait, the CON didn't say anything about me taking leave?"

"The CON doesn't know about any of what happened with Ruslan," Cas said. "If you need leave, we'll work it out, but all of it was off the record."

"Oh, okay," Dean said, shrugging.

"I know you really wanted to be a Cleaner," Cas said, holding up a hand when Dean stared to speak, "and even though I don't think you should be, I do think a change in the way we work is warranted."

Dean's eyes widened. "What do you mean?"

"Your parents don't really follow all the rules," Cas said. "Nobody in the CON gives them a hard time about it because of their success rate and the level of professionalism, but your father doesn't adhere to the normal procedures."

Dean nodded. "I figured he didn't. He's said a few things about moving bodies and seeing things that I don't think he would've if he'd been behind the scenes like I am. Like Jess is."

"I think it would be good for you to be more hands-on like your father," Cas said. "He gets his hands dirty, and I think you'd be happier with a working relationship more like your parents than the typical Cleaner-slash-Handler relationship. Are you interested?"

Dean sat forward, putting his elbows on the desk. "Hell yeah!" he said, nodding.

Cas smiled at the enthusiasm. "We'll start with Eiker. You'll do exactly as I say, no more, no less, and," he drawled the word as Dean's body almost seemed to inflate with excitement, "if it goes well, I'll let you start helping with actual kills."

Dean's mouth dropped open and a squeak came out. "Really? You're not just messin' with me?" he asked.

"It's not a guarantee you'll get to the point where I think you're ready for it," Cas said, hoping to calm Dean down just a little, but it didn't work and Dean was bouncing on the seat.

Cas had a feeling he'd created a monster. He wasn't really sorry about it either.

Cas put a hand on Dean's left thigh as they crouched in the trees behind Eiker's house. Dean was nearly vibrating with energy and excitement.

"If you can't stay calm," Cas warned, "you'll have to stay in the truck while I grab him."

"I'm excited, not uncontrollable," Dean hissed back, giving Cas a look that clearly said 'this isn't my first exposure to something like this.'

Cas nodded. "If anything happens-"

"I know, I know," Dean said, huffing out a laugh. "You can handle him on your own, so if I feel the need to do anything other than stand to the side and observe like a good little boy, I need to go to the truck."

Cas nudged Dean as he stood up, using just enough force to knock Dean against the tree. Dean scrambled a bit, but got himself up without any undue noise and followed closely behind Cas.

The house was dark and quiet. The hitchhiker Eiker had taken before Dean had been kidnapped was dead and disposed of, so Eiker was enjoying a few days of post-kill calm, working during the day and spending most of the evening baking cookies for the fund raiser at the school down the street.

Cas wondered if Dean would insist on someone taking the cookies to the bake sale the next day, and a part of Cas hoped he would just so he could see that adorable little grin on Dean's face when he gave in and told Dean to give that info to the CON.

Eiker watched TV when he couldn't sleep, but the TV was off and Cas could hear soft snores as they crept down the hallway to Eiker's bedroom. There was carpet throughout most of the living spaces, which made it easy to make their way silently down the hall.

The smell of something dead and rotting caught Cas' nose, and he held up a hand so Dean knew to hold still. Dean was in the doorway, and Cas moved to the bedside, smirking when he saw the severed hand on the pillow next to Eiker.

Cas had encountered a few serial killers who enjoyed the smell of rotting flesh, but most didn't. Eiker was unusual in more ways than Cas had realized.

Eiker's left arm was wrapped around the pillow, and his face was inches from the severed hand, yet he was sleeping peacefully, which meant it either brought him comfort or he used it to remind himself of the fresh kill.

Cas held his left hand out over Eiker's arm just in case the man flailed when Cas injected him, but he easily pushed the needle in and depressed the plunger. Eiker never moved, sleeping soundly after his kill.

After checking that Eiker's pulse was slow enough, he turned to Dean. "Turn the light on."

Dean squinted as he flipped the light on, the overhead fan's bare bulb too bright after their eyes had adjusted to the darkness. "Couldn't have just used a teddy bear or somethin'?" Dean asked, gesturing to the severed hand.

Cas pulled the blanket away from Eiker before rolling the man over and wrapping him in a black sheet.

"This part always seems exciting," Dean said, frowning. "Waiting while you go in and grab somebody with your headset turned off is nerve wracking. This, not so much."

"Sorry to disappoint you," Cas said as he went to the closet and took a quick look around, then went through the drawers in the room, including the nightstands.

"No, I mean it's not super disappointing," Dean said as he peered over Cas' shoulder, trying to see in every drawer. "I just thought it would be... I don't know. I don't know what I thought it'd be."

"Where are your gloves?" Cas asked, grabbing Dean by the wrist and pulling his hand away from the picture frame he'd been about to pick up.

Dean sighed, pulling gloves out of his pocket and putting them on. "Do you have any idea how rare it is that they audit you?" he asked as he rolled his eyes.

"And if they find your prints, they'll-"

"They won't do anything to either of us, least of all you," Dean said, shaking his head. "Your success rate is too high and the complete lack of black marks on your record means they'd probably let you do almost anything."

"I have no black marks?" Cas asked, frowning as he looked to Dean. "What about the Handlers I've fucked up?"

Dean smirked. "There's a warning. It's a red flag area where they put notes for the CON and Handlers, and it's this big-ass list of 'don't do such-and-such' and 'no newbies' and other shit like that, but no, you have no black marks."

"Huh, so they don't mind me roughing up the help?" Cas asked, as he pushed the drawer closed.

"No," Dean said, letting out a huff of laughter. "They warn Handlers about what quirks a Cleaner has, but they put us through an orientation before each new assignment that lasts two months where they drill it into us that every Cleaner is different, every Cleaner will fuck you up, and you'd better learn quickly or you're going to die."

"So every Cleaner has a red flag area?" Cas asked as he hefted Eiker onto his left shoulder.

Dean chuckled. "No. Only a handful have the red flag. Most of them have a brown flag that lists some warnings, and then there's gray flags that probably aren't going to hurt a Handler at all. Red Flag Cleaners aren't assigned newbies even if the newbies make it through orientation with flying colors."

"What were your orientation marks?" Cas asked as they headed down the hallway.

"After the first week, they asked me if I would consider working with you," Dean said, pride in his tone of voice. "They still made me finish orientation, but by the time I was done they were begging me to work with you after the internship."

"What were Pam's marks?" Cas asked, amused by all of it.

"She passed with no problems," Dean said, "but I think she let it make her cocky. Thought she could handle anybody."

"Who's she with now?" Cas asked as Dean opened the back door to the SUV. Cas lowered Eiker into the SUV, then closed the door and the two of them climbed in the front, Cas in the driver's seat.

"Alastair," Dean said.

"Really?" Cas asked, starting the vehicle. "She must've really taken my lesson to heart if she's with Alastair."

"Alastair hasn't sent her to the hospital, if that's what you mean," Dean said.

"Is a description of the incident in Pam's file? Is there one in Victor's?" Cas asked. "Is it in mine?"

"It's not open to just anybody," Dean said as they drove through the quiet streets, catching mostly green lights on the way back to Cas' house. "You need a certain clearance level to see it, but the red flag on your account lets people know there's more information if they need to work with you."

"They gave you access, I'm assuming," Cas said.

Dean nodded. "Yeah. I read it."

"And you _still_ wanted to work with me?" Cas asked.

Dean let out a huff of laughter. "I figured I'd be a good fit for you. Straight out of the academy, people think they know enough about serial killers to handle one, and a lot of times it works or they learn quickly, but Red Flag Cleaners are different, and I grew up with one. Victor thought he knew what he was doing because he was going by the book, but that doesn't work. You can read all you want and get some great head knowledge, but it's not going to save your leg when you beat on a serial killer's front door demanding they file a report at a certain time because that's the time to do it."

Cas smiled. "You've never done that."

"Why would I?" Dean asked, incredulous. "Even if I hadn't read about what you did to Victor, I would've known not to do that. If he would've pulled the rule book out of his ass for five seconds, he wouldn't have a limp."

"He was a better fit for the FBI anyway," Cas said, shrugging.

"Yeah, and Pam is a good fit for Alastair," Dean said. "It all worked out. The timing just sucked. You had to go through a few Handlers first because I wasn't out of the academy and the internship yet, but now you've got me."

Cas glanced at Dean, the smirk on Dean's face so annoying, so tempting. Cas knew exactly how fast he could wipe that smirk off Dean's face. How quickly he could make Dean scream.

"You weren't assigned to Crowley for very long," Cas said, remembering his one encounter with Crowley. Remembering how incredibly annoyed he'd been by the man. "Is that because they couldn't assign you to me? A fresh Handler getting paired up with a Red Flag Cleaner?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, they didn't want to get in trouble. They knew I was a good fit for you, but if they would've assigned me to you, being my first Cleaner ever, anybody hearing about it would've flipped their shit. A year internship with Crowley while they rotated Handlers with you was necessary to cover their asses."

"What color is his flag?" Cas asked.

"Gray," Dean said, then shook his head and chuckled. "When people meet him, they assume he's going to be one of the worst and most brutal they've ever come across, but working with him for five minutes I realized he's all bark and no bite. Good at what he does, and he won't hesitate to kill on cases, but he was kind of adorable to me. He'd snap at me and threaten and turn his nose up at me, but when it came down to it, he never even came close to hurting me."

"I didn't get a sense of danger from him," Cas said, shaking his head. "I was irritated by him. Nothing more."

Dean snorted. "Yeah, that's why in the comments section there's a note about being careful because any Handler assigned to him needs to put up with having their buttons pushed _constantly_."

"I can see that," Cas said as he pulled into the garage.

Dean got out and opened the doors for him, and soon Cas was stripping Eiker and tying him down to his table. Eiker was a big guy, and as long as Cas' table was, Eiker's feet were still hanging off the end. His rolling cart was fully stocked, but Cas checked it over again just to make sure while Dean shoved Eiker's clothing into a bag and set it aside.

Cas had learned a little about his victim, but not enough. There hadn't been enough in the field or the reports, because not much was known about him at all. Cas didn't like that. For all Cas knew, Eiker had a family history of stroke or heart attack and the first thing Cas did would kill him with freight.

"What are you doing?" Dean asked.

Cas looked up at Dean, who was standing against the counter top across from the front door. He was watching Cas, very curious, and it irked Cas just a bit that he'd been questioned. He was used to doing this part alone, and Dean had interrupted him.

"Learning him," Cas said, then ran his fingers over the bottom of Eiker's left foot. He crouched down and checked between the toes, then ran the pad of his thumb over Eiker's heel.

"But what-"

"Shut up," Cas said, voice low. He found a rough spot under Eiker's big toe. It wasn't reddened. The callous was old but firm, which meant Eiker had continued to do whatever had created it in the first place. Cas turned Eiker's foot this way and that, then checked the opposite foot and found it to be clear of any rough spots.

Cas found a fresh wound on Eiker's left inner thigh close to the knee. It wasn't deep, and appeared to be defense wounds from one of his victims. Probably from a fingernail.

Eiker's nipples were pierced, as was his cock. Captive beads in his nipples and a banana bar in his Prince Albert piercing. The hole in his cock had been gauged, and Cas guessed it was close to a two gauge.

His genitals had been shaved clean of hair, and Cas assumed there would be no hair in his ass crack either. There were numerous scars throughout Eiker's body, and Cas recognized cigarette burns on Eiker's left hip. They were larger than they should've been, slightly distorted, which told Cas Eiker had gotten them as a child and they had grown with his body.

It was most likely one of his parents. Mentally ill children were frustrating to deal with, and more likely to be the victims of abuse from parents, siblings, and other children in schools and neighborhoods surrounding them. They didn't act 'normal,' which always invited more abuse, unfortunately.

Cas moved back to Eiker's big toe, and on a hunch he squeezed the toe between his thumb and middle finger, his thumb easily finding a break that hadn't healed correctly. There were probably more incorrectly-healed breaks throughout Eiker's body, and the picture of child abuse became complete in Cas' head.

The rough skin of Eiker's left thumb confirmed his suspicions of thumb sucking, and added to the callous under the big toe, Cas had a pretty good idea of the self-comforting techniques Eiker used.

"There's a package in the corner," Cas said as he trailed a finger over Eiker's lower lip, the discoloration of the skin from sucking his thumb while he slept just one more piece of the puzzle that made up Eiker. "Put on a pair of gloves, open up the package, and set the pipe on the counter where you've been standing. Make sure you put a dental bib down first. I don't want it discoloring my counters."

"Okay," Dean said, immediately doing as he was told.

Cas pulled Eiker's mouth open, finding cracked teeth, but they weren't yellowed. It was as if he'd cared for his teeth by brushing, but never got things fixed at a dentist's office. There was a red, rough spot inside Eiker's left cheek, likely where the man had chewed when he was nervous or bored.

Eiker's pupils were unequal, the left one larger. It wouldn't have happened just from the injection Cas gave him, and it was more likely a head injury as a child had caused it and the lack of medical care the boy received, most likely denied by an abusive parent, had led to a permanent problem.

Cas figured with a head injury that significant, Eiker would have headaches, perhaps frequent migraines, but he hadn't found pain killers in Eiker's room. Eiker must have thought he deserved whatever pain he felt. More evidence that Eiker was a mix of psychopath and sociopath. A man who had already been deeply disturbed before one or both parents had even gotten a hold of him.

Anything Cas could do to Eiker, the man would feel it deeply, but he'd accept it. He might even make suggestions, thrive on it. Cas always enjoyed it when his victims joined in. It cut down on the amount of surprises for the victim, but it also ramped up the devastating effects of what Cas did to them because they'd tell him exactly how to hurt them in the worst possibly ways.

"Six fingers," Dean said softly.

"A birth defect," Cas said, not irritated by the intrusion now that he'd wrapped his head around Eiker more to his liking. "Given his age, it would've been cause for ridicule in the town he grew up in, and I would imagine it's one of the reasons his parent abused him."

"Child abuse wasn't in the records," Dean said. "How'd you know?"

"Leave the gloves on and come here," Cas said. When Dean stood with him at the end of the table, Cas pointed to Eiker's big toe. "Find the break."

Dean concentrated as he moved the toe back and forth, but then he smiled. "Got it."

"It's one of many injuries his body grew with," Cas said, running his hand over Eiker's left leg, patting the cigarette scars.

Dean winced. "Does this change what you're going to do to him?"

"No," Cas said, shaking his head. "He didn't hurt children. He never even kidnapped people who had children."

"The hitchhiker," Dean said, nodding. "The crane operator. The bus driver."

"He doesn't treat them as children either," Cas said, "and I'd venture to say he sought out people he considered threats."

"Like he should've been employed by the CON?" Dean asked.

"No," Cas said. "I didn't find evidence of research on Eiker's part. He took people on impulse. A small gesture, a joke, or even the way those people looked at children was enough to interest him, and after finding out they didn't have children, he took them."

"What about the guy who owned the bakery?" Dean asked.

"It was probably a mistake on Eiker's part," Cas said, shrugging. "Or maybe it was the fact that Mr. Joseph abandoned his children and moved across the country to get away from them."

"Eiker didn't believe in reconciliation?" Dean asked.

"Why would he?" Cas asked, shrugging. "Nothing and no one stopped his abuse. Why would he think another parent would see the error of their ways and mend fences?"

"Do you ever question yourself?" Dean asked, voice soft. "When you find out there were good intentions behind their actions or they were raised in conditions like he was? Like Darryl?"

"If you have a problem with this, you can leave," Cas said, and he wasn't threatening. It was an offer. Dean didn't have to stay if it upset him.

"No, I just want to know what goes on in your head," Dean said. "I still feel the justice of it all. Eiker could've done good and helped the CON or gotten involved in charities or youth centers. Instead he chose to kill. But I wanna know about you."

"I don't feel anything for him," Cas said, shrugging. "Yes, he was abused by the one person who should've kept him safe, but how many others out there were abused and don't grow up to kill? I find his choices insulting to those who have gone through Hell and choose not to hurt others."

"But he thought he was ridding the world of the bad guys," Dean said.

"No, he didn't," Cas said, pulling a face. "If he thought that, he'd have been finding abusive parents and killing them. What Eiker did was choose people who weren't squeaky clean to indulge his fantasies. To play with."

Dean moved back against the counter top, ducking his head just a bit as if he wanted to say something, but he was a little scared to. "So what's the difference between you and him?"

"Not much," Cas said without hesitation. "I follow a set of my own rules, but so did he. The difference between us is all in shades of gray. If you want to look at it objectively, we're no different."

"But you don't kill potentially innocent people just because they gave a kid a dirty look," Dean said, a bit of defensiveness in his tone of voice.

"I'm still a serial killer," Cas said, watching Dean process it all. The way Cas' words hurt a little even though Dean knew better than most people what Cas was. "If the CON wasn't in existence, what I'm doing would be illegal and morally wrong according to society's rules. Eiker could've had what I have, but he probably didn't want to follow rules. It's a fine line, and I'm one impulsive moment away from crossing that line."

"Maybe he just didn't have someone like your brother to let him know the CON is an option and that it's okay," Dean said.

Dean's eyes widened as Eiker chuckled. A low and gravely sound that most likely had the hair on the back of Dean's neck standing on end.

"He's cute," Eiker said, completely calm and relaxed on the table. "Would've been fun to play with him. Could've made him cry. I bet he's pretty when he cries."

Cas nodded. "He is," he said, hiding a smirk when Dean let out an indignant huff.

"How 'bout you untie me," Eiker said, "and the two of us can have some fun with him."

Cas pulled on a pair of gloves. "Thank you for the offer, but I'm here to do a job. Fun for me, training for him," he said as he nodded toward Dean.

Eiker laughed. It was loud and deep, his belly jiggling. "You're going to train that little boy? To what? Shit his panties at the sight of blood?" he asked, voice dripping with sarcasm, as if he in no way thought Dean would be able to handle any of it.

Dean stiffened, and Cas hoped Dean would keep his mouth shut. He didn't want to take Dean down in front of Eiker, but he would if he had to.

"Oh," Eiker drawled, then let out a low chuckle. "I see."

"Doesn't matter what you see," Cas said before Dean had a chance to ask Eiker. Eiker was good at manipulation, and Dean wasn't ready for it. Not the way Eiker could dish it out. "You're on my table for the night, and we're going to start with something I'm sure you'll enjoy."

Eiker kept his eyes on Dean, ignoring Cas. As Cas picked up a set of pliers, Dean shifted, and even though Cas wasn't looking directly at him, he knew Eiker had something. He'd seen something and was about to use it, but Dean knew something was coming too, by the look on his face.

"I hit the nail on the head and didn't even mean to," Eiker said. "Care to show them to me?"

Cas took hold of the captive ring in Eiker's right nipple with the pliers and pulled, the skin resisting some, but finally ripping as Cas yanked. Eiker didn't scream. He didn't curse or yell at Cas. He didn't even flinch. If anything, the man arched up, wanting more. He let out a moan, eyelids fluttering closed, cock twitching against his leg.

"C'mon, kid," Eiker said, voice breathy, "show them to me."

Dean shifted again. "I don't know what you're-"

"One," Cas said in that threatening tone that usually worked on Dean. Dean froze, and Eiker had another piece of a puzzle that wasn't meant for him.

"Oh, this is beautiful," Eiker said, then licked his lips. "Okay, Daddy," he drawled as he looked up at Cas, "can I see your baby boy's panties?"

Neither of them were looking at Dean, but Cas could almost feel the change. It had spooked Dean, and Eiker had to have felt it too. He'd have to talk with Dean about letting mindfuckers into his head. Not that Dean was naive, but he hadn't dealt directly with the people Cas Cleaned, and while Dean was extremely good at his job, he was involved in something new, and he needed to be careful.

Any chance one of these bastards had, they would take it, and Dean could handle it, Cas knew he could, but not if he didn't realize how easy it was for someone to get inside his head. Cas was not only familiar with it, he did it himself. Eiker wasn't anything new. Wasn't anything special.

"He's not allowed to show them off right now," Cas said, then grinned as Eiker licked his lips again. "You're here to die by my hand, but I don't see why you can't indulge in some fantasies. Ask him what color they are."

Eiker groaned, thrusting up as Cas wrapped a gloved hand around Eiker's cock and started stroking. He looked to Dean, fingers restless at his sides as if he wanted to touch, to hurt, to use.

"What color are they, sweetheart?" Eiker asked, his entire demeanor changing in the blink of an eye. He was no longer the predator. He was no longer the merciless serial killer who tortured his victims, and even though Cas wasn't surprised, it had to have been a shock for Dean.

"Black," Dean said, most likely answering before he thought it through. "Mesh with a lacy trim."

"Good boy," Eiker cooed, every bit the caretaker. The nice man who was baking all day so the kids could have more school supplies. The homeowner who was at all the block watch meetings and made everyone feel safe. The stable dom almost any sub would fall to their knees for.

Cas stroked faster, closing his hand around Eiker's cock until it would've been uncomfortable for anybody else, and yanked the captive ring out of Eiker's left nipple with his free hand. Eiker moaned, back arching off the table just a bit as he came all over his stomach.

Dean tensed even more. "Why the fu-"

"Two," Cas said. This time it was a carefree warning, and if Dean was as smart as Cas knew he was, Dean would see that he was one more outburst away from getting his ass beat in front of Eiker. A man who would be more than happy to watch.

Dean was almost pouting. Almost. Cas wiped his hand off on Eiker's right thigh, then set his pliers down on his rolling cart.

"We brought a few things from your house," Cas said, nodding toward the table.

Eiker had a lazy smile on his face, sated after his orgasm. When he saw one of the tools on the cart, he chuckled. "None of that is going to make me sorry for what I've done. None of it is even going to feel bad. I'm going to enjoy every minute of this."

Cas picked up the rusty pipe Eiker had used to rape his victims, waving it back and forth as if weighing it in his hand. "I have a feeling you won't enjoy this."

Eiker laughed so hard he snorted. "And here I thought you paid killers knew what you were doing. Fucking idiots. All of you. The government pays you for this?" he asked, closing his eyes and dismissing Cas' apparent stupidity.

Cas looked to Dean, then waved him over. Dean didn't hesitate, and when he was close enough, Cas pushed a pair of gloves at him. "Ready?" he asked. His voice was low, but not so low that Eiker couldn't hear him.

Dean put the gloves on, then took the pipe from him instead of answering verbally, but he didn't move to the end of the table. He was waiting for Cas.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Eiker suddenly growled, eyes full of hate and not a trace of the friendly neighbor left. Even the color of his eyes seemed to change. Light brown to dark.

"He's assisting me," Cas said, then smiled, taking on the persona of friendly neighbor himself.

"Like fuck he is!" Eiker growled through clenched teeth. " _You_ caught me, _you_ kill me, not your fuckboy. That's the way it works."

"I thought you said you were going to enjoy this," Cas said, pulling his gloves off and dropping them under the table. He put his right arm around the small of Dean's back, hand on Dean's right ass cheek.

"No! You can't fucking do this!" Eiker yelled, anger doubling when he realized Cas was serious. He stiffened, face turning a darker shade as his blood pressure ramped up.

"Do I need lube, Daddy?" Dean asked, voice soft and a hint of innocence in it that Cas didn't even know Dean possessed anymore.

And as much as Cas didn't want to admit it, wouldn't admit it to anyone, he fell for Dean just that much more. Dean had picked up on what was happening, and he was playing along without needing to be told.

Many of the doubts Cas had about the working relationship between the two of them melted away as Dean clumsily moved into position and slid the pipe over the table between Eiker's legs as if he was unsure of himself, maybe even a little scared. It was beautiful.

"No! You get that little cocksucker away from me!" Eiker yelled, hands balled into fists, veins prominent on his forehead, muscles bulging in his neck, arms, and chest. "Cocksucking faggots should stay in their fucking place!"

"Like this, Daddy?" Dean asked, pressing the jagged end of the rusty pipe against the crease of Eiker's ass.

Being on his back with his legs spread and resting on the table, Eiker's body wasn't in a good position for penetration. Pushing in at that angle would mean Eiker's colon would be punctured no matter what Dean did. Eiker would die faster than what Cas had initially planned, but the CON probably wouldn't pitch a fit over it.

"Right like that, Cuddlebug," Cas said, enjoying the way Dean's jaw tightened as he tried to keep a straight face.

It was the right thing to say because Eiker went from furious to heart-attack-inducing rage in the blink of an eye. His speech wasn't even clear enough to decipher, but the pure indignant screaming told them everything they needed to know.

Dean shoved the pipe into Eiker, but he wasn't ready for the amount of force needed. Instead of letting it slow him down, Dean just pulled back a little, then shoved in much harder, Eiker's shrieks were loud enough Cas swore he could feel them inside his chest

Blood coated Eiker's ass cheeks, dripping down onto the table and smearing over his inner thighs as Dean fucked him with the pipe, going deeper with each thrust, and soon blood was dribbling out the other end of the pipe.

Cas took advantage of both men being distracted and pulled is cock out, stepping around behind Dean and wrapping his arms around Dean's middle, careful to avoid the pipe Dean was still thrusting deep into Eiker's body. Cas pressed his belly and chest against Dean's back, trapping his cock between them, then started humping against Dean, his cock dragging over the rough fabric of jeans and up under Dean's shirt, catching a patch of bare skin.

"What else do you want to do to him, Lovebug?" Cas asked when Eiker started to weaken from the blood loss, taking a moment to catch his breath.

Dean stopped, leaving the pipe inside Eiker. "Didn't you tell me he used a hammer on that hitchhiker? Broke the bones in that guy's body with it?"

"Do you want a hammer, Baby?" Cas asked.

"That sounds like fun, Daddy," Dean said, grinding his ass back against Cas.

"F-fucking faggot!" Eiker spat, lips bloody from biting his own tongue in his fit of rage.

Eiker may have liked heavy pain with his sex, but his body was giving in to the overload of pain and loss of blood. His limbs were shaking and his breath was catching. Cas moved with Dean, keeping his cock up against Dean as they made their way to the rolling cart and Dean picked up the ball peen hammer they'd taken from Eiker's house.

"Put your hand on his chest," Cas said to Dean, grinding against Dean when the blood on Dean's gloves smeared over Eiker's chest. "Find his sternum. It's where the ribs meet in the middle. It's a peaked plate."

"Got it," Dean said.

"Now hit that spot as hard as you can," Cas said.

"Won't that kill him right away?" Dean asked, not so much questioning Cas as he was hesitant to end the fun so soon.

"No, it'll make breathing much harder," Cas said, then kissed Dean's left shoulder. "It'll hurt, and any move he makes, any time he screams, and any time he tries to breathe or move his mouth and head, it'll be excruciating."

"Cool," Dean said, dropping the innocent young student act and letting himself settle into the moment as he held the hammer high in the air and brought it down onto Eiker's sternum.

There was a muffled crunch. A wet sound as Eiker's lungs froze and his body tried to recover, tried desperately to keep him alive. His mouth gaped like a fish on dry land, blood vessels popping in his eyes, capillaries bursting in his cheeks, and his bladder finally losing its battle with control.

He was in too much pain to scream, and instead just shivered and gurgled until his lungs sluggishly started working again. Eiker winced, the pain and pressure more than he was expecting.

"Beautiful," Cas breathed as he moved his left hand down, cupping Dean's crotch.

Dean wasn't hard, but Cas wasn't surprised. This was new and unexplored territory for Dean. He'd killed before, but that was to defend Cas. Killing Eiker was completely different, and even though Dean had watched Cas do it, that all changed when it was in Dean's hands.

Cas pulled away and put on his apron and a pair of gloves before taking the hammer from Dean. His apprentice had a taste of what it was all about, but he wasn't ready to murder in cold blood. Cas was sure of it.

"Watch his eyes and put your hand over his heart," Cas said softly as he stood at the end of the table, holding the hammer over Eiker's head.

Dean did as he was told, eyes wide as he watched the hammer come from the side and hit Eiker's left temple. It was a killing blow, and Eiker's body shuddered for a few moments before finally relaxing in death.

A wet crackling sound came from Eiker's mouth as the last of his breath left his body, his lungs deflating and no longer fighting the crushing pressure of the broken sternum. Cas usually watched his victims as they died, the way the life left their yes, the way their skin quickly turned just a slightly different shade, a hint of gray that someone couldn't see unless they were looking.

But this time he was watching Dean, hand on Eiker's chest, over his heart. Eyes wide, tongue tucked between his bottom lip and his teeth, something Dean didn't even know he did when he was a little scared but also enjoying something.

"I can still feel it," Dean whispered, as if he didn't want to ruin the moment. "I can feel his body trying to hold onto life. His heart's not beating anymore, or maybe it is but it's just too faint for me to feel it."

"Look at his eyes," Cas said as he pulled off his gloves, tossed them under the table with his previous pair, then took his bloody apron off, draping it over the gloves. "Watch as the film starts to develop."

Dean held his breath, curious as he leaned in a bit to look at Eiker's eyes. "I see it."

Cas walked up to Dean from behind and reached around, unbuttoning his jeans and pushing them down just under the curve of his ass. "Fuck," he groaned when his fingers brushed over the lace panties. He made quick work of opening Dean up with the lube from his pocket, then pulled the panties down just enough that he could get his cock inside Dean. Dean whimpered at the intrusion, too much too soon, but he didn't tell Cas to stop.

"Don't move," Cas said when Dean pulled is hands away from Eiker. "Keep your hands on him while I fuck you. Eiker's blood on your hands, his body cooling on my table."

Dean's breath hitched as Cas wrapped his right hand around Dean's erection and started stroking him. He wasn't fully hard, but he was getting there, and Cas shoved into him roughly, no desire to take it easy when he was so fucking turned on.

"Fuck, Cas," Dean gasped, muscles in his shoulders and back straining as he tried to hold position. Dean liked to touch. To hold. To pull Cas closer when they fucked, and it was obviously hard for him to keep his hands on Eiker.

"You can smell it already," Cas mumbled, mouthing at Dean's neck, grabbing Dean's balls with his left hand and rolling them, tugging just enough to make Dean hiss, to make his asshole clench. "It's something most people ignore, so they don't notice it until the stench is stronger, but already you can smell it if you pay attention. Something that tells your brain there's something wrong, something that needs to be taken care of."

Dean let out a huff of laughter. "Okay, _that_ part doesn't turn me on at all. That's just gross."

"Get closer," Cas said, leaning down on him.

"Cas, knock it off," Dean grumbled, pushing back. "I don't need to faceplant into his body. That'd totally kill my erection."

"Get closer or I'll make you," Cas whispered in Dean's left ear. "And it'll hurt."

Dean shivered, but did as he was told, bracing himself on Eiker's belly and chest as he leaned down and smelled the body. "Cas, I really don't like-"

"It's going to keep you safer," Cas said, rotating his hips and giving Dean some pleasure to reward him. "Remember the feeling in your nose and that odd sense you have in your forehead. It'll tell you when you're close to a serial killer or if you've stumbled into a killer's home or kill space."

"You've never smelled like this," Dean said, pushing back against Cas like he wanted to get away from the smell. Like he didn't want to believe that Cas smelled like that ever.

"You ignore it because a small part of you doesn't like to think about it," Cas said as he tugged on Dean's balls again, making Dean whimper. "I keep clean, I shower, and I don't take any of my work into the house, but a lot of killers do, so forcing yourself to pay attention to the smell in others will keep you safer, and it'll help you find killers when they're right under your nose, unlike law enforcement officers who ignore it because they allow their primal self to dismiss it."

Dean's cock wasn't getting soft, and Cas smirked, knowing Dean couldn't see the way his lips were curling up. Even if a part of Dean's mind was telling him the decaying body in front of him was a turn-off, the part Cas had seen deep down inside Dean was alive and well. The part that made him a perfect partner.

He might not be a Cleaner himself, but Dean could be a huge asset, a hunter who helped Cas, stood by his side and made them a nearly unstoppable team, like Dean's parents.

It was something Cas hadn't let himself hope for. Not for a long time after Ruslan hit him over the head with a dose of reality and left him alone and permanently scarred, branded by his pathetic desire for a partner.

It was right there. Dean was right there and wanted this, was good at it, and for some fucked up reason that Cas couldn't wrap his head around, Dean loved him.

Cas wasn't delusional. He knew it wouldn't be perfect. Dean would make mistakes and they would have problems along the way, but Dean was smart and he picked up things very quickly. He seemed in tune with Cas, and that was beyond unusual. It was remarkable.

"Hey!" Dean yelped as Cas bit down on his shoulder. "I'm not a chew toy."

Cas let go of Dean's cock and balls, wrapping his arms tightly around Dean instead and fucking him against the table, Dean whimpering and squirming when his hips ground into the edges of the table.

"I wanna come too," Dean said.

He was complaining, but he didn't try to get away and wasn't trying to stop Cas. He was holding still for him, and that turned Cas on even more.

"Stop whining," Cas said, grunting as he pressed his forehead against the back of Dean's neck and fucked him even harder.

"But I wanna-"

"Stop whining or I'll use the pipe on your ass," Cas said, the idea making his balls ache even if he wasn't planning on really using it.

Dean flinched, his asshole clenching as the image got stuck in his head. "Dude, not cool."

Cas squeezed his eyes shut, holding his breath as Dean let out another yelp, his right hip slamming into the edge of the table. Cas fucked in as deep as he could get, growling as he came, fingernails digging into Dean's sides. He bit Dean's neck, moaning into the skin as Dean squirmed.

Just as Dean pushed back and took a breath, likely to complain and demand he get to come too, Cas pulled out and grabbed the back of Dean's neck, pushing him toward the cabinets on the back wall of the kill room.

Dean's jeans had pooled at his ankles, so he stumbled, but Cas kept pushing, then he turned him around and lifted him by his armpits, setting him on the counter.

"Cold!" Dean whined as his bare ass hit the counter top.

"Hands up," Cas said, then leaned down and held Dean's cock to his lips. "If your blood-covered hands touch me even once, you're not coming for a week."

"Oh, fuck," Dean breathed, his head thunking back onto the cupboards as he spread his legs, Cas' warm mouth sucking him in. "Fuck, Cas, yeah!"

Cas didn't take his time or tease Dean at all. He used his right hand to stroke the base, his left to play with Dean's balls, and he bobbed on Dean's cock like it was the best thing he'd ever had in his mouth.

He counted the seconds in his head just because it was fun, and only thirty-nine seconds later Dean was coming down his throat, grunting and thrusting, trying to get deeper inside Cas.

Cas pulled back and put a hand on the counter top to either side of Dean's legs, then leaned in and kissed Dean. Dean made a little noise of contentment as he pushed forward, wanting to be closer. By the time Cas pulled back, Dean was breathing heavily again, his lips wet and puffy, and there was a flush on his cheeks.

"Let's get him cleaned up," Cas said, tucking Dean's cock and balls back into the lace panties. "Those won't make it through the wash with the harsh chemicals and temperature I use, so leave them on when we're spraying the room down. I want to enjoy them as long as I can."

Dean smiled. "You really like them?" he asked, unsure of himself even though he'd been the one to put them on, knowing Cas would see them at some point while they were in the kill room.

"I like them so much, I'd consider buying you more even though I hate shopping," Cas said as he started to strip out of his clothes.

Dean's grin warmed something inside Cas' chest. He hopped off the counter and pulled the rest of his clothes off, leaving the lace panties on.

When it came time to scrub themselves down, Dean laughed as Cas took the time to pull the panties apart, shredding them and pulling them off Dean in pieces.


	13. Epilogue

"You're not gonna die," Dean said, rolling his eyes as he pulled up to the house and put the SUV in park. "You can fuck me in the bathroom if it'll help."

"I don't think I can survive what your mother would do to me if I fucked her son in the bathroom," Cas said, not even attempting to get out of the vehicle yet.

"We don't have to do this if you're not ready yet," Dean said softly. "I won't think any less of you for hiding from my family."

"I'm fine," Cas said, unbuckling the seatbelt. "It's just dinner."

"Yeah, but you hate shit like this," Dean said, shrugging.

Cas turned to Dean, frowning. "I thought your job in this whole thing was to say anything you can to get my ass in the house."

Dean glanced at the house, then shook his head, smiling. "No. If you really don't want to do this, I'm not going to force you. I want you to do it, but I want you to feel comfortable even more than I want you to sit across the table from my little brother."

"How much do you want me to scare him?" Cas asked, grinning.

"If you can make him drop his fork, I'll buy you an entire cheesecake from Caprioti's," Dean said. "You can eat the whole thing yourself."

"Deal," Cas said, nodding.

"But you really don't have to do this if you don't want to," Dean said again.

"I'm probably not going to hurt them," Cas said, reassuring Dean.

"I'm not worried about you flipping out and murdering my whole family," Dean said, then chuckled. "Well, okay, I kind of worry about that. But mostly I want to make it clear that you can be whatever it is you are and I'm more than okay with that."

"Well, now you've built this up and I'm wondering if there's an intervention or something waiting for me," Cas said, fingering the switchblade in his left pocket.

"Dude, I thought you were leaving that at home!" Dean said, grabbing Cas' wrist.

"I always have weapons," Cas said, then smirked. "And the sound of this opening will probably be enough to make your brother piss himself if I do it at just the right time."

Dean chuckled, shaking his head. "You're such a dork," he said, then leaned forward and kissed Cas' cheek before climbing out of the SUV.

Cas didn't move, even as Dean opened his door and gently tugged on his shirt. Cas felt an urge, but this time he didn't try to stomp it back down.

"Hey!" Dean yelped as Cas grabbed him by the arm and pulled him over his lap, Dean's legs flailing outside the SUV.

But then Dean settled over Cas' lap. He wasn't struggling, wasn't trying to get away. He just got comfortable and waited for whatever Cas wanted to do. Cas ran his index finger over the curve of Dean's ass, then under the left cheek, earning a huff of laughter because it was one of Dean's ticklish spots.

"Your mom's probably watching," Cas said. He didn't know if he was warning Dean or trying to see how Dean would react to that knowledge, but it was yet another experiment. Cause and effect. Human behavior.

"Wanna give her a little show?" Dean asked, straining his neck to look at Cas over his shoulder. He was grinning and happy and relaxed.

Cas shook his head. "No, I want to eat some of that stuffing you said your mom makes. And the bean casserole your brother makes because he thinks he can cook even though it's all out of the can. And I want to eat your dad's pumpkin pie and Jess' apple crumble."

"We can go in whenever you're ready," Dean said, using his arms as a pillow and relaxing that much more over Cas' lap.

Cas smiled, his own body loosening up as he thought about the man over his lap, about the family who raised this man, and the woman Cas had thought of as a legend for years.

He wanted to eat dinner with them. He wanted to see what Dean was like around them when he wasn't being rescued from a serial killer. He wanted to see Jess and Sam interact, how they behaved when Sam's brother wasn't being held captive and tortured. He wanted to see the look in Mary's eyes when she gazed at her sons. He wanted to see the man who married a legend and was one half of a team that not only had such a high success rate but also raised two boys who didn't back down in the face of the worst the world had to offer.

He wanted to have dinner with his boyfriend's family.

"Okay, lead the way," Cas said as he slapped Dean's ass and pushed him off his lap.

Dean didn't hold his hand. Didn't wrap an arm around him. Didn't try to coddle him or protect him from what was about to happen.

"We're here!" Dean announced as he walked through the front door.

"We're in the kitchen, kiddo!" John yelled from somewhere off to their right.

Dean closed the door behind Cas, then nudged him with his shoulder. "Smell's good. Let's get in there before Sam finishes off the pie."

Cas chuckled as he followed Dean, the smell of turkey and stuffing and fresh-made dinner rolls filling his nostrils, the warmth of a family home all around him, and the sense that even if he didn't fit in completely, he had a place here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for Part 1 of the CONventional Psychopathy 'Verse. Thanks go out to all you awesome readers who left comments and kudos <3
> 
> Soon I'm going to start posting Part 2 of the series. There will be new tags on the next part, so please read them carefully. As always, if you have questions or would like spoilers, please IM me on Tumblr/LiveJournal/Dreamwidth or you can email me (mayalaenATgmailDOTcom).
>
>> **Part 2: Control Theory**
>> 
>> When a stranger comes to Cas, asking for his help with a traumatic event in his past, Dean's not sure if he can handle what Cas is planning to do. The serial killer is still out there and time is running out for a man who doesn't even know he's still a target.
> 
> If you'd like to be notified immediately when I start posting again, please subscribe to the series page or my user account here.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [You're Missing Out](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10371669) by [outoftheashes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/outoftheashes/pseuds/outoftheashes)




End file.
